


Boss Witch

by submissive-bangtan (Eonnie)



Series: Submissive BTS | Dystopian AUs [3]
Category: K-pop, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Adoption, Anal, Angst and Heavy Smut, BDSM, Baby Boy Park Jimin, Begging, Body Horror, Choking, Commands, Cum Play, D/s, Dark Magic, F/M, Face-Sitting, Fingering, French Kissing, Graphic Description, Injury, Jimin’s dirty (literally) and your local textbook masochist, Long haired Jimin, Masochism, Massages, Masturbation, Mentioned Lee Taemin, Mommy Kink, Orgasm Denial, Painslut!Jimin, Potions, Punishments, Reader Insert, Reader finds her strength, Ripping Clothes, Slapping, Soft Aftercare, Sounding, Sub!jimin, Submissive Jimin, Swearing, Tattoo Kink, Tattooed Jimin, Tw: snakes, Witch!Reader, Witchcraft Apprentice!Jimin, age and experience gap, all sorts of graphic hardcore, blood and tears, breath and power play, femdom!reader, jimin x reader - Freeform, mdlb, neck fixation, sexual use of wands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-09
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-06-16 08:53:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15433434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eonnie/pseuds/submissive-bangtan
Summary: A mighty sorceress grooms her apprentice Jimin into a pain-loving baby boy.





	1. Not Nature's Work

**Author's Note:**

> Where are my sub!JM enthusiasts out there? This one's for you. Enjoy! -Caro

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jimin gets into a tricky situation that calls for a different type of help.

There's an unusually low cloud forming over the amusement park.

It's so massive and dark that the towers of the rollercoaster disappear.

Lightning in the distance makes it hard to focus on any work. The wind had been tough on the rugged buntings in the garden all day, but you've never seen a storm front as massive as this one.

Last year, a cyclone passed the Northern area of the city, but the sky had been grey — not black all over. The rain comes once the sun has vanished completely, and outside there's nothing but darkness.

 

You worry about Jimin.

 

He's out there playing. Maybe collecting something like you told him earlier.

 

In any other case, you would simply close the blinds and read. But now that the lightning approaches, you're uneasy in your seat at the window.

By the time you pace around imagining how he tries to get home, but ends up cornered by heavy rain and thunder, the decision is set. You'll go out there and get him yourself. 

 

After kicking off your shoes, you crank the door open and step outside barefoot. 

The rain lands anywhere but on your gown. 

Both towers of the rollercoaster loom afar, engulfed by mist already. You know it will get worse, so you hasten your steps.

Mud is everywhere. All grass is gone. The wind tousles your hair more every time much like the rain is becoming relentless, turning the mud into grimy water with chunks of wood in it. So far, the trees elsewhere didn't survive this very well like they usually would.

 

The park might not have trees, but you can still tell by the wind that this is not nature's work.

It's too strong, too cutting. It doesn't sound normal, either.

 

Judging by the scale of the cloud, it must overarch the majority of the city. But the focal point appears to be right above.

Jimin is nowhere to be seen or heard, how could he be. Crawling haze emerges from the ground and booming thunder resound from every direction. You browse the shooting galleries and run-down rococo carousel.

Not a trace. No melody, no movement. Only the gushing of rain creates a rhythm on the carousel's roof of painted metal.

You call for him twice now, but no answer returns from the obscure plaza. 

 

The arcade and the casino are empty, too. Instead, most of their ground floor is completely flooded. The doors have remained intact which comes to your surprise.

But a lot of window frames, flags, chairs, and tables are splayed out demolished all around. A slot machine tipped over in another corner, and playing snooker would mean getting one's knees horrendously wet.

A dozen teddy bears float on top of the water elsewhere. Some small, some oversized. Grey stuffing peaks out of their ripped up bellies.

You leave the patio of the arcade devastated yourself. Had Jimin only been inside on the first floor saying he had forgotten time. 

 

_What if he's trapped somewhere._

 

A myriad of other questions pose themselves while you turn to search the restrooms, but pick up a creaking noise before you can get there. It's a dull and lifeless tone that makes you turn.

It came from the Ferris wheel.

 

_Please, not there. He can't be up there. He'll die._

You shout. 

"Where are you?"

Silence. Only thunder continues. The mist obfuscates the entire scene by now while a sole wayward lantern by the restroom door brings a bit of clarity. The rain pounds against the side of the building and it becomes deafening, but still: Your coat remains dry.

 

Merely the cold reaches your finger tips, but doesn't dare to venture any further. What is does instead is make the mud a lot stiffer underneath your feet.

You proceed to the wheel following the lantern's ray, walking the path as if it was by fate or design.

 

A voice, then, reaches your ear when the wind turns.

 

"Mom!"

 

It's his. You can't identify the direction.

 

"Jimin! Come!"

 

The creaking noise is back. 

 

"Help me, mommy!"

His scream reverberates in the darkness. Something is off. It must be the wheel, it can't be anything else.

 

There's one antique red cabin dangling close to the peak where you can see a little arm waving. Its movement is so frantic that you have to look twice.

 

The Ferris wheel has only sixteen capsules and it had to be this one right at the top. You told him not to climb around there.

Again, you can hear him.

 

"Stuck—!"

 

The wind swallows the other words. But it's already obvious what the problem is. 

 

 

You extend your left index finger. Pointed at the wheel, you assume the familiar position. Two feet planted firmly on the ground, shoulder's width. Right palm on the heart to connect with its beat.

The words are deliberate even if the wind carries them far past the horizon.

_**"Bend to my will."** _

Another creak. Several ones, this time. The steel, even though it hesitates, ends up following the circular motion of your hand. Even if it rattles and churns, the wheel moves. Slowly. 

You can feel how heavy the iron is in your chest. The red gondola approximates about half past the peak that the entire plaza is engulfed in an uproar. 

 

You can't see anything. It's too bright. Panic.

 

Then, the familiar black sky returns.

The distraction interrupted your movement. So now, the wheel is starting to spin dangerously fast. Without your control, the impetus starts having a shrieking and droning mind of its own.

Jimin's voice oscillates back and forth in your ears pleading.

It's a desperate cry, and you can't see where it's coming from anymore.

The red color of the capsule blends with green, blue, yellow, purple, into nothing short of a grey blur on the plaza.

 

Twenty years spent and it all ends. Now you're going to lose him. 

 

You only have one last idea.

 

If it fails, he's dead faster. If it works—


	2. Honesty Policy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After everything that happened, you make an important decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back with an early update cause this fic is made of magic and femdom dreams... ♡

_Snap_  go your fingers, twice. Within seconds, a fuzzy white dot flies across the patio. An arch so high the cloud tangents, a plunge so steep that all you feel is an immediate sting of regret. As if in contempt, the wheel just keeps spinning. It sneers.

Failure. 

With a heavy heart, you head to the one feasible spot assuming the dot landed there after plummeting straight to the ground behind the casino. It's almost been an hour since you left the place at the window. Still, the rain won't stop. It didn't work.

This is your heaviest loss so far. 

 

 

 

The lantern merely flickers at this point. It makes the patio feel darker than the gruesome cloud. A singular puddle comes into your focus, seeing how something had disrupted the area. Nothing moves. There is no life as you expected, just a pile of dirt, wood, and rusty chairs. But as you step close, there is a sign. Just a small movement.

 

Now, you hurry, elated. Only to pry a mewling cat from a puddle just beside the arcade, stained in mud from tail to paw, gyrating — thankfully. Whatever you did missed the spot, but still, it lives. It really does. Just as planned, the cat landed on all fours.

 

It clings to you in an instance and curls up shivering. Impossible to tell whether of freight or cold, both even. You just want to hold it close forever. Ten, eleven, twelve, how many times do you roam your hands over its legs and backbone to feel if everything is where it should be. What every book of yours would call implausible has happened right before your eyes. 

 

The Ferris wheel gradually slows its pace while you turn to walk past the casino, cat tucked neatly inside your cloak, back to where you came from through the storm. Lightning illuminates the way, but the park is all too familiar already. There's a deep purr at your chest, tail peaking out at an opening between two of the silver buttons lined up at the front of the black garment. How bizarre this is already, but now you're walking home with a feline in your cleavage, barefoot, with a coat so warm and dry that it might have been inside on its cozy hanger all the time.

 

 

 

The theatre is still standing at least. It's audible from the outside that the shabby 1960s piano plays a melody on its own in the foyer. Chopin, Nocturne in E-flat major. The sound subsides around the first half because a few keys are missing.

After passing the box office, you open the doors to the familiar scent of corrosion and moth powder backstage. Both kicked-off shoes are right where you left them, but you won't bother putting them on again.

Maybe you can get used to the air in here one day. It's always just the difference of returning from outside to the inside that you notice it. Jimin has tried so many things to change it, but to no avail. Gladly, the bathroom is somewhat neutral in its smell when you enter.

 

Mewling again, the tomcat scrambles to stay in your arms, but the tub is already filling with water. You plant the ragged fur ball in the middle where there's foam crowning the surface ever so slightly.

You make sure that the water won't rise too much and stick a hand in, checking for temperature. It's hard to estimate given how the chilling wind outside has numbed your fingers, but the fur ball stays in place without complaints as long as your hand lingers nearby and stirs the bubbles. Only thunder makes it wince. A soft sponge comforts it, having you buff both cheeks and belly with care until some of the mud comes off.

 

It doesn't take long until the foam piles up left and right. It's time, you decide, and two more snaps of your fingers turn the cat's purr into a fuller timbre. The fur flattens, the legs get bigger. They branch out into more muscular limbs while the tail coils up and then disappears. Both pointed ears turn into rounded, dainty ones. Paws tainted by mud give way to petite toes. Long and thick black hair sprouts where once cropped fur stood upright soiled. Front paws elongate into beringed fingers framed by the seam of an old parka.

Once the transformation is completed, you get a giant towel from a wobbly bronze tray at the sink. Not giant giant, but still rather large. You let the water rise again until a lethargic Jimin is completely soaked and hugged by foam. A bit more scrubbing with the sponge and you think he might have found his words again. It always takes a couple minutes.

You sit down at the edge of the tub and work half a palm of herbal shampoo through his hair.  

"Everything okay?" you ask, facing two dark and twinkling eyes from behind the bubbly mountains.

Downcast, Jimin murmurs as if not to drown out the rain by his volume.

 

"Won't do that again."

 

 

The neutral scent in the bathroom gradually changes to something more flowery. It's got a bit of basil and thyme in it, too. The theatre's walls still shake under a few oncoming gusts of wind, but none of the cold air manages to creep inside just now. Jimin ends up purring a bit under the circling and twirling motions of your fingers, but catches himself in the act. 

 

"Lightning hit the casino," you wipe away some of the grime on his face. "Sorry for messing up the bending spell. Your nose's bloody here. Hurts?"

"Tissue will do, it's not broken. And you didn't mess up much, really."

 

 

 

Jimin kind of likes trying out a heat charm on himself when you sit down with him to watch TV. The air magic book is lost on you, but after teaching him how to read it, Jimin has acquired a fair lot of spells. A little spark alights between his fingers when he says the words, remembering to place one hand on his bottom lip while guiding the warmth with the other.

You watch from the oaken armchair with fairy faces carved on its sides, faces who had seen three generations of witches pass it on. Jimin warms up his clothes and hair while your favorite show runs, one of the older episodes when the cast was funnier and the wit more sophisticated.

The tube TV is buzzing in the old enameled cupboard where you keep most of all books and two backup crystal balls. One having less density, the other more solid but less polished which would always turn out to be a nuisance. Well, there is a reason they are backups.

You placed them close to the television hoping they would improve the ever-so-shitty signal anyways. Knowing the theatre was fairly remote and the park generally as desolate as it could be, perhaps a bit of magic would give technology a hand and the five available channels would follow suit.

Jimin still preferred the cauldron, and you doubted he could use level three magic to get even the low density one to work.

 

He's on the chunky suede sofa, a makeshift handkerchief twirled into his nostrils. All busy moaning about how the clouds block the usually splendid view to the countryside. You got him tea before emptying the pockets of his parka, one of his favorite jasmine blends. The pockets are quite heavy, making you wonder where he had been around the funfair to collect their contents.

 

"Look. These are good." You align a couple of empty snail shells on your lap. "Almost too many, really."

"Could've spent less time out there, I guess."

Jimin is chewing on the inside of his cheek, staring outside the window. You go on crushing the shells in a mortar, but leave one particularly beautiful specimen untouched on your lap. 

"I'll let that slide. But next time you come home from the carousel, you'll be early as usual, Jimin, 8PM. I've never been this worried since 800 years."

"I'm sorry, mom. And thank you."

 

Mom. You had always found it funny when he called you that at first. Or odd, if you admitted it. That was never the plan. You thought of more fitting alternatives for him to use, but after he persisted, that too you would let slide. If it would give him peace and certainty, then you'd bat two eyes instead of one.

 

"The Weather Witch Directorate. They are experimenting again, it seems."

"What are you going to do about it?"

"Tell them that Fridays are a bad time to cast a thunder charm at the next best occasion!"

"Well fuck, what are they up to?" 

"When magic is out of balance, it needs a discharge."

He's scrunching his nose at that. 

"Discharge? I thought someone just has a grudge!"

"They wouldn't dare. And why make such a huge storm front all over the city just to tease us. You can't imagine the effort this took. That needs at least nineteen witches. All Level four or four and a half, something like that."

"That's true."

"I'm not so unpopular either recently. Haven't heard anyone complain about the adoption for quite a long time. I think a lot of them really like you. They heard you're making progress."

You put away the mortar covered with the ground shells inside and get a little leather string to attach to the one shell that's left. You give it to Jimin and he puts it around his neck.

 

"Should you ever be in danger again, touch the pendant. I'll feel it. What were you doing in the gondola, anyways? You didn't see the black clouds coming, from  _up there_? Jimin, you're one of the best junior magicians I've ever seen. You couldn't possibly overlook it."

He bats his eyes now. The strands of his hair fall into his face so you can't see his expression. He doesn't bother brushing them behind his ear like he usually does. They're dry already.

"What's wrong, Jiminie?"

 

He fumbles with the hem of his jeans.

"I was a bit... uh, lonely."

"Taemin's always here for the weekends. And Fridays!"

"I don't want to play with him."

"You don't like Taemin anymore?"

"No, that's not what I mean. You wouldn't understand."

"Jimin, what have you been doing on the wheel? Remember what we have here."

"Honesty policy."

"So?"

"Err, I got a bit carried away doing something. I'm sorry."

 

"Something?"

 

He mumbles into the curtain of his hair so you can't hear.

"What, who put up a shelf?"

He repeats, louder, voice shaky.

"No. I was... touching myself."

Jimin swallows hard.

"Why would you completely forget about the damn world around you! It's not so hard, jerking off or not!"

"It, it was hard. Like the book said."

 

That book. Sexual Education for Young Wizards Volume 3. A 560 pages strong encyclopedia that was initially circulated as a joke among some witches, but gained huge popularity.

It ended up being rewritten in earnesty, with more demand even asking for a third volume. Which was the one you decided would be best to pick to spare him from the awkwardness of the second or first volume. It wasn't just for born wizards, but also gifted human practitioners. You locked some chapters in his rendition with a guardian spell, but masturbation wasn't among them. It was quite a large chapter with tips and tricks, including charms for stamina, chastity, and a separate section detailing all of female masturbation, too, and how one could assist it.

You completely forgot about the book after giving it to him some time ago. He brought up this and that in conversation, but mostly you were sure the text was extensive enough to cater to each query he had save the later chapters. The ones with asphyxiation and getting stepped on. You sort of left him to his own devices after the questions stopped, and knew he would try things he liked responsibly. Nothing of concern had happened. Until today.

 

"Jimin. I meant it wasn't difficult to just keep an eye on the weather even if you got carried away."

"I was too... focused."

"Were you using one of the Level two spells?"

He nods.

"For witches' sake!"

 

Nobody writing that book would have figured how 'responsible' magic would be rendered useless once it wasn't practiced in the safety of one's sheets but on top of a Ferris wheel. Level two is relatively harmless magic as long as one would wield it on the ground. But height ultimately wouldn't do any charm, well, any good. Especially within a thunderstorm of Level 4 sorcery.

 

"Why, out of all places, there?" you ask.

"I thought it's where you couldn't hear me."

 

Your face immediately falls into a deadpan. 

"Do I care if you groan in your room about Taemin? You can do whatever you want, Jiminie. I don't judge. Unless it kills you, do you get me?"

"It wasn't Taemin."

Now you just blink at him.

"What's with that, it wasn't Taemin?"

"I went there because I caught myself saying something else."

"Which was?"

 

"Your name."

 

"What!" 

"And, that thing. Cho, um, choking. When I think about you... doing it, I get too loud and my spells turn out a little, I don't know, weird."

 

Now you realize. The guardian spells in the book were timed ones.

They would fade when he would turn a certain age, or vanish once he unlocked them by practicing a previous chapter until completion.

Knowing Jimin, he would do it in record time to disable the majority of the locks. The new, heavier last chapters might have made him feel a bit reckless. And remembering how Jimin worked the cauldron in your presence for the first time even, he would get into detail bit by bit.

But could you blame him. You picked the book for him to study, you installed the guardian spells so that they could be altered just by how ambitious one was. Sexual charms were part of the course on bio magic that Jimin desperately wanted to know about. And he was turning 20.

The age where any apprentice would get seriously interested in a witch or wizard. But given that there was nobody else around and Taemin's flirting apparently went past him—

 

"Your spells get weird, what happened? 

"It felt better than when I usually do it."

"When you thought about you, me, I mean. Me, me choking, uh, you?"

"Yes. Why are you sweating?"

"Jimin, that's..."

"Hey, honesty policy!" he chirps.

"That's a longer story."

"You have to tell it. I did my part."

 

"It's about my ability. Not the spells, my natural skill. The one I told you needs no charms to cast."

 

 

At that, his eyes light up like charcoal glimmers in the morning ash at the cauldron.

"Wow, really? I never saw you exercising it!"

"It's because I am capable of something that nobody likes, Jimin."

"But, didn't you say everyone is talented at doing some kind of good magic?"

"The reverse is true, too."

"Oh..."

"I happen to be that person with a natural skill of it. Have you ever wondered why we don't interact with other magicians and mortals?"

"Come on, Taemin should still count!"

"He's just our delivery boy."

"But he used to do magic! He told me so many times!"

"Before the hand accident. Taemin barely belongs in either category now. He's not human like you. And he's not a sorcerer. His magic is completely, say... neutralized. It's rare."

 

That it would put him squarely in the middle was the only reason why he could drop by, and that was hard to come to terms with. Anybody else wouldn't do so well setting foot in the park. 

 

"I only communicate long-distance with witches and wizards", you add. "My magic is too disturbing for those who are sensitive to sorcery. Meaning, all people."

"Why? It's not disturbing, that's not you. But, it must be powerful, isn't it?"

"Surely is."

"I knew it! I knew it! How does it work, then?"

He comes over from the sofa and props down next to your calves like he was still in cat form. Jimin coos, nestling with the long seam of your coat.

"Don't mess around here now, Jimin. I wanna go on watching TV."

"Mommy, please show me how it works. Honesty, remember!"

"I've prepared your bed long ago. There's more tea in the kitchen, too. Take that with you. I demonstrate it when I think that the time is right."

"Please, I'm dying to know! And everyone who doesn't follow the policy has to clean the toad's pond on Mondays!"

You sigh, store away the snail shell powder. Jimin gets his parka back and uses a floating charm to bring the teapot into the living room. This time, he doesn't spill a single drop. Outside, the thunder is still rumbling.

 

You fill an embellished purple cup with the tea and recline in the armchair, causing one of the fairy faces to utter a little giggle before falling silent again.

"There's a special reason why I was elected head of the Witch Council."

"I know, you're the boss! And why, then? Special?"

"My magic is the most potent among all governing witches. But also the most dangerous and harmful. When the Council meets, only my projection is there to advise the other sorceresses. I can't get closer than ten miles. The power imbalance would be too severe."

There is a reason why the cloud is the darkest over the park and not elsewhere. That is, right above your heads. Discharge.

 

 

"I am by birth the only witch able to use what is referred to as: pain magic."

"Pain magic?"

"Full range, Level five and possibly above."

 

Lightning strikes one tower of the rollercoaster. The foundation of the theatre echoes it long after.

"Level five! What, what does it do?"

"Well, it hurts. Anything."

"And how?"

"I adhere to the codex, I cannot tell nor demonstrate that to a mortal."

"I'm not a mortal anymore, you taught me how to use my talents!"

"The codex also says that gifted people are exempt. It doesn't matter which Level they can exercise."

"What's the reason for it?"

"It's not so difficult. All the codex does is protect you."

"How patronizing it that!"

"Matronizing, if anything. The rule was made by witches."

"I know, but I wanted to see how it looks like! Please, please, it sounds amazing!"

 

Jimin's curiosity. It'll be the death of him. 

You pick up the teapot and take out the little sieve attached inside, placing the tea leaves in your palms. As they settle, all green fades only to be replaced by brown, then grey. Jimin stares with his mouth agape.

"My magic finds a living thing's, a person's weak spot and torments it indefinitely. It draws out life energy. Since it's my natural skill, I can't just seal it away or not use it. It works with bare hands and never stops. No spell can inhibit it either. It's just about keeping it as low level as possible, which I can do."

"Really, no spell?"

"These are magic tea leaves, right?"

"Yeah, sure?"

"You would need to use a complex bio magic charm to disintegrate them like this. But I didn't do much now."

Jimin extends his hand for you to place the remaining two crumbs of the leaves in it. 

 

"Is that all that's really left...?" 

"Have you ever noticed how no plant is growing around here?"

"What do you mean?"

"Most wildlife in this area is sensitive to pain magic, too. I kill nature wherever I go, seeds mould away when I walk. Even rain won't touch me. There is no way of doing anything against it. When you said choking..."

"I thought—"

"It reminded me of how much I could hurt you, Jimin."

"But mom, can't you touch me?"

"That's the paradox. You are the only person I know who didn't wane. It is no coincidence you're my first ever apprentice. You're gifted, but that's not really why. But sure, it may be one of the reasons. I always thought it had something to do with that."

"I don't get it, that you can touch me?"

"I would guess so. A normal human would collapse. That's why I keep everyone at a distance. I was fortunate you came my way. I'd never try to purposefully show my skill to you because of it. Whatever the full range might be, because nobody really knows."

 

The tea has turned cold. Jimin doesn't bother with the heat spell. Instead, he hugs your legs from where he sits. It's not as expected, the embrace is hardly suave like a cat's now. He's really plump, his arms are big. He trains a lot.

 

 

He holds up his arm again, the crumbled tea leaves falling off his hand.

"I still want you to show me. If it's as low as possible now and I don't feel it..."

"The problem is, my character changes."

"Ooh, exciting!"

"It's not."

He rolls up his sleeve.

"I've known you for so long. I really trust you. Use it as punishment for me staying out too long."

You tug at the cuffs of your coat, thinking. The codex doesn't encourage it. But it also doesn't forbid it either. And if he pleads for it to get even?

A fairy snickers from the back of the chair, making the armrests vibrate. You want it to shut up, but it keeps on chortling anyway.

_Well. Honesty policy doesn't just mean honest words. Honest actions, too. It's not because Jimin is very good at convincing you if you already ponder the option._

 

Finally, you exhale. 

"I need your chest bare. It hurts the least when there is heart magic to counteract."

"Isn't heart magic what you always use?"

"Yes, even today with the wheel. It might be a bit depleted, at least I hope so. That actually helps."

"Let's do this!"

"Slow it, there's a whole process behind that. Remember your new pendant instead." 

 

You unclothe him noticing how well he had cast the heat charm even if he dresses like... a walking onion with a gazillion layers. The parka, then his denim jacket first. He got it downtown the other day, and has not left it at home since. It has a lot of whimsical pockets all over so Jimin can keep a couple of feathers, stones, and petite flasks with potions inside. He keeps it all organized unlike his room where he refuses to throw out the pile of props and mirrors.

No, this jacket is the complete opposite indeed. Underneath, as always, is the cashmere sweater that had been your gift for his 19th birthday. It had been a small party, but Jimin would let confetti rain from his sleeves by accident because he got so excited. 

Even if it's already starting to wear out at the hems, even if the cashmere is close to turn into actual felt because the surface had to handle so much friction from other clothes, he will refuse to get a new one. "I'll wear it until it falls apart". It's a bit tricky to pull it over his head because the long hair gets in the way.

And Jimin loves his tin-forged jewelry, the leather strings and beads and crystals. The new necklace, too. They all stay on because you like how they look around his neck, and adorn his chest alongside the tattoos. Not that he'd ever put them off anyways.

The tissue that you pull from his nose is almost spotless, but you're too nervous to take note of it. 

 

When Jimin's last tank top and the TV is off, eventually you can clear the area from the armchair, the table, also shoving the sofa a few inches back toward the wall. He reclines to lie down on the carpet with the weaved-in flat gems, mostly quartz, jade, and agate. His hair fans out on the carpet like a halo, even wavering a bit to intertwine with the woven threads.

That's what he taught himself the other day just for fun. More air magic, of course. The majority of the witches in the council say that their apprentices would rather mingle in bars to get roaring drunk on potion and booze instead of advancing to Level two and finding interesting things to do in abandoned amusement parks.

Observing his breath, his smooth torso, you see how Jimin freezes a little. He does well wearing at least five layers each day. But now, you wouldn't dare to make him use a heat charm. Instead, you kiss his forehead as you would do when singing lullabies for him. Back then, he was still at Level one and couldn't climb on the carousel.

 

"Are you sure?"

"M-hm!"

"Keep your arms on the carpet if possible, okay. Stay grounded."

There's not much more preparation necessary. You concentrate the lowest dose on one thumb. But it's hard to focus it there. It simply flows. The spot where you tattooed him at the center of his chest is where you graze the tip of the finger ever so languidly. It's the image of a sailing boat, facing the horizon sun and parting waves without effort.

It was an honorary tattoo eventually approved by the Council, lending Jimin better ability to channel heart magic. He was already very good at it when you carved it into him with a wand. He said it didn't hurt one bit leaving everyone astonished. Again, you knew he was  _the only person._

 

But now that you raise the frequency of the pain, even he would feel it. You are sure. Nobody was ever safe. Even Taemin would often say he'd get a massive headache after spending an afternoon at the amusement park, gone in a second the minute he came home. You knew Jimin would be no different. But still, you place the thumb over his heart. Right where the anchor of the sailing boat is, dangling by a heavy chain.

 

 

Jimin contorts on the carpet in growing convulsions. He's crying blood. All of his hair wets again because the heat charm reverses, and roughens against the carpet in frizzy, trickling strands. You try to bend down to soothe him, caressing his cheeks, his arms, his sides in desperation. But a mighty impulse takes over. The energy keeps on streaming through your hands without mercy. Trying to hoist him up is a mistake, a grave one. You only see his pained expression becoming stronger.

He is fighting against the heavy stab trying to clasp his chest. It had been of no use to tell him: stay grounded. The mud reemerges on his hands and face, a large brown patch on his arm where he spilled red hot potion on five years ago. You know why. He has to use up all his energy to resist, and all other charms must break. He cries and cries, and the carpet goes into creases before you when he curls himself up sidewards.

 

_You won't fight for much longer, motherfucker._

 

There's that voice inside you. The dreaded voice. You hate it. All the time you had hoped it would not emerge again. You shouldn't have agreed to lay a hand on Jimin even the tiniest bit in the first place. He's still winding and sobbing. You want to hold him so bad now, but your hands are in paralysis. You realize: they pierced his heart.

 

_Hurt him. More._

 

You want the voice to go. 

 

_That's not even a quarter of what he can take._

 

You didn't hear it for almost three decades. The memory was the only thing you wanted to take into the new century. And that was already hard to bear enough.

But it keeps on speaking.

 

_Punish the shit out of him. He deserves it. Mess him up, put that thumb down again. He begs and jerks off to you, what more can you want. He got so loud. Imagine that in your own bed._

 

No. Jimin is in so much pain. You won't do anything. You won't touch him, not even once. 

 

_You think it's a coincidence he likes choking? Your boy has good intuition. He already knows what your hands are capable of. He wants it bad._

 

You snap your fingers twice, but nothing happens. Jimin remains on the carpet as he is. A hastened calming charm — too, is useless, leaving your hands empty where you would usually see a russet squirrel emerge to hop around the place, chanting and prancing until the situation had resolved itself. In the meantime, Jimin begins to salivate on the carpet with his eyes rolling back into their reddened sockets. You turn to get out of the room. Run, run as far as possible. If even bio magic doesn't work, there is no hope.

 

_You only want to run because you, you! You think it hurts him. Does it, really? Face the truth. You'd chokefuck him any minute for the thrill._

 

Past the sofa, the armchair. 

 

_Like a rag doll._

 

Past the table, the cupboard.

 

_Remember, you wrote the book yourself._

 

 

 

Even further. You need to run further. Escape from the theatre even when the world outside is a puddle of dirt, ripped up teddy bears, and more dirt.

 

_Didn't you tattoo him in that spot just because you like his collarbones? Why did you give him all these necklaces? You're 900 years old. But still a virgin cause no dick on the entire planet could survive a second inside of you. And on that floor? The single most able boy to get your horny ass off. What are you going to do about it? You're perfectly clear about what you REALLY want._

 

The voice is now booming inside your brain like thunder. When you get to the door and press its brass handle, the volume is a staggering crescendo, almost unbearable. Your hands remain buzzing with energy. The room is upside down. It's all tilted. The TV switches itself back on again, but only shows a blacked out screen while a brittle voice presents the news from yesterday. More people have diabetes. Another dead person after a wizard couldn't tame a charm. Good weather forecast only. The lotto numbers are 27, 3, 18—

Chopin plays in the foyer again. 

The crystal balls burst in their spots, sending splinters darting through the room. The teapot shatters to dust, rendered a cloud of ground china. Jimin's saliva pools at the ceiling while the voice drowns everything in an ugly shriek.

 

_What are you going to do about it!_

 

Until you hear Jimin cough. Several times, and it's bloody.

 

 

  

"Mom, mom. Don't leave me. Fuck me, please, mom. Fuck me, fuck me..."

 

 

 

 

 _Told you so._  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will be back with another (hopefully!) exciting update soon.
> 
> I love your feedback, let's talk. How do you think is our witch going to handle the situation? 
> 
>  
> 
> Listen to Chopin: [Nocturne in E-flat major](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9E6b3swbnWg)
> 
> Visit my tumblr: [submissive-bangtan](https://submissive-bangtan.tumblr.com)


	3. Queen Serpent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You discover Jimin's natural skill.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go, here we go. Magic, uh... finds a way. Mind the new tags, enjoy the ride!

Chopin ends with a warm and tender kiss.

It's just music, but that's how you imagine the last note to look like. The sound, full and bittersweet, becomes like a palm at the base of your spine.

Not caressing but shoving you, and everything about it feels eerie when the foyer falls silent. You realize that to resist means going nowhere, ultimately, and stumble backwards heading to the middle of the room where Jimin catches his breath.

What's underneath your bare feet is akin to a broken mirror because nothing, absolutely nothing of fragile substance in this room has outlasted the flare.

The flare of the ancient voice that you believed to be among the ruins of your past. But it's back, louder than ever. Just as cruel, if not worse.

It didn't forget what had always been its singular purpose. Desire. The goal of finding the only person. To bring your final satisfaction after so many years of having nobody. Maybe it never left in the first place.

While the TV keeps on babbling about politics, you have to take in with horror what the splinters have done to Jimin.

Sore. Everything sore and bleeding with stained cracks of porcelain all around. The crystal balls have shattered into so many parts that their individual pieces are hard to identify at all. His wounds blend into an all-encompassing coat of mud for as long as you can keep your gaze on Jimin. The agony keeps him subdued with pain. Soon, it's too much. You can't see it any longer. It's your fault that it had to end this way. You've destroyed him at your own hands, neither capable of coming close nor escaping. It's hopeless. The room reeks with iron and sweat; you wish you could rip yourself apart to burst into it like porcelain. But that, too, is an endeavor of no hope. A witch never dies, no matter how much of a burden eternity is.

Your fingertips feel so numb. If only things were back to normal. You want to go to a place where things are still okay.

But his words force you to look back. Or this time, the lack of it.

Jimin has both hands wrapped around his neck, struggling for air. It makes your breath quite equally shallow. For fuck's sake, it makes your lungs feel like they were about to implode, too. The crimson tears have stopped falling, but his face has turned red almost entirely as far as you can tell through the grime. Because all the charms had reversed, even how you bathed him as a cat. Jimin's neck is bursting with veins as if he had swallowed a crammed shelf of potions whole.

"Do, please— this, mommy!" he trembles, and there's no doubt his hands could press much harder. And make him much harder.

The way the fabric of his trousers rises between his loins makes you look twice. It is when the voice, soulful now, regains its speech.

 _Oh, have you realized_ it by now? _You can't run away forever and lie to yourself, coward. He really wants you. Look at him. He'll destroy himself before you ever can to spare you from the deed._

Jimin coughs out loud again with both hands firmly in place. His bulge is none the tamer even if his neck turns impossibly scarlet. Almost ornate.

_Beautiful, isn't it._

Surely. Yes. It is beautiful. Yes, you have realized things. If anything, the voice is your own honesty policy. It makes you shiver, but seeing Jimin go on strangling himself makes the feeling one not of terror, but interest, as if his neck would beckon you. No coward could adore this. It causes a feeling in your abdomen that is all too familiar, in fact. You're strangely heated for such bad weather.

He still moans and writhes, it has no end. The wounds cannot stop him. Barely, he cries through the grip of his own claw-like fingers.

"Hurts, hurts so much! Please. Touch me now!"

The voice takes no second to pick up on it.

_You hear that? Bang him to dust. You're the boss witch in this house. He won't screw it up a second time, I'm telling you. Listen to the way he talks. He's read all of the pages. The whole fucking book, don't you understand how gifted he is?_

"Mess me up, I can't stand this any longer."

_And make him shut his audacious mouth. No more begging. Can't you see he's the one guiding you? Where is your willpower? Tell him what YOU want!_

Jimin's whines seem infinite in your ears, watching his ever-desperate hands clutching at his neck. Your coat unbuttons itself with the sound of several fairies cackling in the background. The fabric flops down far away on the kitchen's marble floor. It leaves you in the simple undergarment of thin silver scales and plates covering your body neck to calves as it always does. An early acquisition in the life of a witch, a simple charm, but nonetheless: important.

The fairies celebrate without a break. A few helping hands indeed.

You lower yourself to sit on Jimin's thighs, eyes fixated on the rising tent of his crotch. You expected his pain to become a lot worse now that you're touching him, but it seems that your approach would give him at least a bit of relief.

_How fortunate._

You address him tugging away his hands at the wrists.

"Can't stand it? Me neither, baby boy."

They descend back to the carpet. They stay grounded. Finally. It's where you need his hands to be.

His jewelry clinks when you gather each necklace one by one. The string with the shell. Metal and wooden beads, intricately woven with feathers and crystals in between. A repainted rosary, bright turquoise. Small bronze coils and zigzags of an old barbwire that had become crooked, pretty much dull. Strands from your hair that had fallen out so he had gathered them, turning them into a thin, braided necklace with a simple crochet hook. Being magic, the hairs would bond and form a thick filament enough to handle the pressure. You could feel how it would conduct the stream from your hands, knowing its owner. Jimin would wince again, and it wasn't because of the barbwire. His own hands don't have to do their work anymore.

Having him choked up like that underneath you peels back the silver plates around your thighs, making room — just in between. The scales would allow you to shapeshift if necessary, but due to their sensitive inclination, they could pick up several of your other moods, good or bad.

You bend down to Jimin knowing the voice had been right, indeed. You are perfectly clear about what you want.

"So you jerked off to me quite frequently?"

Your tone is harsh.

"Yes, but it wasn't meant—"

"For how long?"

"Maybe, I guess. Half a year?"

Jimin trembles at the words, but you know it was sincere. As expected. He's been harboring it for quite some time and yet you didn't figure out how his behavior had changed. A shortcoming on your side that needed countermeasures, fast ones, as not to prolong everything and cause another Ferris wheel incident.

"You're quite right. That does need a punishment."

"Please, Mommy! Hit me..."

"After I'm done with you, there won't be a second that you dare jacking off again."

You lick your lips until they are sufficiently wet, pry a tear from his lashes. Wipe off the mud from his body as good as you can knowing how much each one of your touches rips him apart from the inside. His chest is fluttering, but so toned. He really has been training a lot. As the mud comes off, you can see the tattoo radiate colors as if the sea and sails had come alive. Cobalt, azure, lapis lazuli. Art.

It is heart magic, channeled in its full splendor. Whatever it does, it makes him bear your presence.

He's ravishing. Jimin enchants the way a potion never could. But if you were to give him a soft handling, this would not be the day.

You lock your fingers at his throat, necklaces pulled just tight enough. A kick for his high, a challenge for him to keep his blood and airflow reined in. You can see how the carpet reacts to your magic because its gems start to glow deep red.

"Hurts, hurts!"

He's desperate. You keep up the pressure.

"I see, how is it?"

After his breath becomes much shorter, you loosen the grip again. He sucks in air anew, almost stumbles over his own words.

"Why, why do I like it so much? When you hurt me..."

"Because you only think about yourself!"

Smack.

Jimin squeals under the vehemence of your backhand straight to his left cheek.

"Playtime's over, who do you think I am?"

"You're mom, my mommy!"

"Not just your mom. I'm your mistress. Pants off!"

"W—wow!"

The hem of his pants succumbs to the force that yanks it down. The fairies stay silent this time. It was none of their many works of mischief at all. It's your wand that made the fabric yield.

Rarely do you use it when practicing Level four or five charms. It stays where it always is, blended with your spine for the majority of the day. With the years, you have found this to be the most comfortable place. Because why not? Other witches had deemed it an odd way of storage, but you thought about practicality and how awkward it looked to carry your wand around by hand all day. Tucking it inside your coat or boot would not feel much more convenient either. So with the help of bio magic, the crystal ball's ancient advice on witch anatomy, and a book about wand maintenance, you would try merging it — with surprising success.

While moving, it would bend; lying down, it would ease your rest. And thus, its adaptation was perfect. But the best feature had always been this; the longer it resided inside your body, the more the wand would pick up on your magic and had proven to grow accordingly. Taemin had been shocked each time you displayed the piece to him. Once green and sleek, it was now black and withered, though not brittle. Even if they were faint, streaks of gold would permeate the spot where you would place your hand to wield it. You were quite happy with the result. Albeit the product of dark magic, it was indeed a formidable piece of witchcraft. Sturdy, loyal. If need be, you would let it spawn from the base of your spine for a Level three spell. Anything higher would cause a disaster as it once had tattooing Jimin.

Back then, the wand brushed against one of his hair strands by accident. It had greyed overnight and never recovered, so Jimin kept it braided underneath the rest of his hair. Trying to cut it short had resulted in a serious burn that almost severed his arm off after he applied a potion on it. The wand you branded as "Queen Serpent" as it would turn even the most harmless substances to poison if used at Level 4, or turn into a bone solid, almost vine-like helix or crown when infused with Level 5. As was its natural state when you kept it in your back where it would be close to your natural unbridled magic. It was only logical to incorporate it at the source. As with all snakes of charming, magical nature, it had to be fostered properly. Surely, you were familiar with snakes other than ones in the shape of a wand, but this one was special as well as widely discussed among members of the Council. Both in jealousy. Or fright.

It is no surprise that once grown back out of your spine and administered in your right, Jimin's trousers rip like paper. An erection so red and throbbing that it probably surpasses each illustration in the book springs forth, expectant and stiff, sharp almost. Jimin cannot avert his eyes from it, overcome with a heavy blush.

"Mistress, can you ride it—”

"No."

The wand snaps into place. Wound squeezing around Jimin's cock like a spiral, it solidifies under his stupefied gaze. Locked up. There's nobody else but you that could remove it now. Not even the heads of the Wizard Council, dignified enough in their magic to use Level 5 and a half, could unwind it even just one bit. There is only one type of magic it reacts to. And that is yours. Jimin is stuck, pulsating, squeezed so tightly that you can feel how his heart magic makes a leap. He's more excited than ever.

Now is the time that you _really_ fuck him.

The codex, no matter how sophisticated, doesn't say much about what happens when a witch has sex with an apprentice unless he was born a wizard, meaning she could get pregnant. But humans were largely eschewed and one of the reasons why you had written the book in the first place. The title would lure a wizard, but after all, a gifted human practitioner could be just as successful using the Chapters, if not more so. Taemin had been your number one source of information, but beside his stories, he had also brought in erotic material of all kind that was hard to access in normal libraries. One of them inspiring the page about female masturbation and how one could assist with it. One, in this case, being your apprentice who had always been dutiful.

Jimin's face might have looked unappealing to virtually anybody in its current state. Blood smeared all around the eyes. Disgusting. Traces of dirt everywhere around the cheeks. A completely stained forehead where hair would stick to it. What an abomination. But to you, it was the best possible place to be knowing what was underneath. You never knew Jimin would grow up to have unearthly features like these. Even ruined, he looked good. And the deepest desire in your heart was to use and possess him fully just like that.

"Jimin?"

"Yes."

You make sure to pull his necklaces tighter than before.

"I want your tongue."

"My—"

"Can you please me like a good boy?"

"Can. I can."

The scales recede further around your thighs. The air is cold enough to make you feel goosebumps, but Jimin's mouth is so hot. The wand being, well, the wand, it hardens around him the better you get into position, making Jimin cringe with more pain. His dick remains in its spiral cage to endure a torment that the voice had envisioned long ago. That was already satisfying enough. But the most important part was yet to come.

His tongue is obedient. It's been trained by countless spells and trying food that might just be the right ingredient for yet another potion, day by day. You can tell that he goes by the instructions in the book because he travels in circles first to find the right spot on your clit. So far, so good. When he hears you chanting his name, Jimin knows he gets close to where it's the most pleasurable. His lips come into play to deliver a bit of suction. Surprisingly mellow for being dick-strangled, but deliberate. No matter how much you feel him being inexperienced, the way he goes by the instructions turns out to be just fine. Every move of his tongue has a method behind it.

"You promise not to pull a stunt like in the park again, Jimin. The weather witches are hard to mess with at a distance, even for me."

He mumbles into you, largely unintelligible since you don't move an inch from his lips.

"You also promise that your orgasms are mine from now on. Only mine."

"M-hm!" comes as a reply, faint between your legs. The silver scales rattle in response, and it makes your body tingle. This is the thrill that the voice was talking about. It is hard to grind against his mouth and tearing at his necklaces at the same time, but all the easier to give in to lust. Because his lips are accommodating enough, being so plump as just the right cherry on top — of his Cupid's bow, finding just the right amount of boldness to nudge against the tip of his nose here and there. Why just use the mouth when there is so much more to get stimulation from? At this rate, the mud on his face is bound to become half cleared off just by friction, half sweated off. But you decide to give his lips some rest and establish distance.

The fairies agree with your thought about finishing on his chest, just on top of the tattoo. It was a risk, but that you'd have to live with. They cheer when you pick up Jimin's left wrist and guide his fingers which prove to be beyond eager. So agile, you start to believe that the lesson in the book was simply not enough for him. There was a reason he had been able to pass through all the pages that quickly. Locks mean nothing to Jimin, it's fingering, he's good at it. Maybe even better than with his tongue. You'll take note of it.

"How'd my baby practice that?" you pinch at his cheek while his thumb does its twirling, caressing work.

"The illustrations, mistress. I really liked them."

"Mhm, right, right."

The main feature of each Chapter, no matter how small it was. Most illustrations were able to emerge from the pages like holograms, almost, asking the reader to be interactive. The better the stimulation they would provide, the easier it was to move on to the next lesson. Most texts featured several illustrations that all required different motor skills, sensitivity, and speed. You had gotten a whole lot of mailed complaints by wizards who thought it was way too difficult. Your reply was always the same: patience, and more love first and foremost. Jimin was lucky to be gifted and ambitious, not once did he lament. His fingers had been quite busy then, just as they are busy on you now with their little whirls and rubs.

"Well done, my treasure. Can you use your other hand, too?"

"I'll do everything."

You let go of his necklaces. The gems in the carpet change when he brings his right hand to your hip. From his digits, there emerges a spark familiar in color, but the feeling inside your abdomen makes your jaw drop more than expected. This is something else. Your heart, your veins, your lap feel so much more elated. Like an electric pad to reduce cramps coupled with the caring touch of a physiotherapist. It's a heat charm, combined with a spell for arousal. You'd never thought of using the two of them together. But Jimin does, and he does it well.

"Is it what you practiced up there when the storm came?"

"I tried. Do you like the way I do it?"

"You can use it daily."

"Daily?"

His mouth is all agape.

"You're good. On me, baby dear. Can you do that for me?"

Jimin remains perplexed.

"That's how often you want to sleep with me?"

"For sure."

"Really?"

"Can't imagine anything else by how it feels right now. All I ever want is more, Jiminie."

"Pleasure, Mistress."

"Do go on."

The heat becomes stronger, parting your lips anew. As far as memory is concerned, you haven't been vocal like this before. Filling your veins with more excitement as if the season turned to spring outside, and the amusement park was back in operation. His fingers are so apt around, on your clit making it buzz almost. Never have you seen this magic of his, but you are sure it was the very reason he went into hiding.

The way it makes you moan is all too telling why he had feared being heard by you. You wanted to let him know it was nothing to be ashamed of. He used it on himself for half a year trying to conceal it. You can tell how compelling this magic is, after all. Or did he practice in desperation that it wasn't you instead and just his hand?

But that time was over. The same hand that had pleasured him so often was now yours. With all its gentle strokes. He said he was too focused back then, but you understood it to be a gross understatement. The way the sparks around his palms come to engulf you, making more and more scales waver, around your legs, your arms, it is clear: this is not nature's work, titillating forth sentiments you never thought you could possess. The release is loud, it's messy, and Jimin can hardly keep his hands in place. It is, and you are unafraid to acknowledge it, an erotic oasis where you had expected was just a desert.

Jimin's chest is left glowing sapphire with your cum trickling through the lines of the tattoo. It looks so smooth and lucid. The sailing boat is brought to a new splendor after you thought it had began to fade, causing you and Jimin a lot of second thought about a renewal procedure. Which, and that was obvious, would be times as painful. But that was history. You had embellished his chest to the point where the tattoo starts expanding. New clouds and waves accrue. Your cum trails further down to reach the anchor, causing Jimin to gasp when it starts to sway back and forth as if the tattoo had gotten animated just because you climaxed on it.

What you had experienced to be the most lethal substance to the best of your knowledge, even being able to taint metals and irreversibly corroding anything of crystal body, heck, even diamonds, was deadly no longer. It was unusual. Each time you would pleasure yourself and caught the drops in a little vessel designed specifically for it from a sacred white-berry yew tree, Taemin had to take it to the Witch Council's deepest basement. Where poisonous creatures and outlawed books were kept, everything from genocidal sorcery to torture charms. And that in record time, because the fluid would still etch the vessel. The chiefs of the Wizard Council had once joked that they could dilute it with potion to execute prisoners. You thought it was only reasonable to keep the outlawed books on mass murder where they were, along with the vessel — inside a giant cauldron filled with pure heart magic potion. Taemin didn't have to go to the basement for you very often.

But now, you were glad to store away the yew tree vials with good reason. The need to use them had disappeared with just a few touches.

"Oh, look!"

The crystal pendants on Jimin's chest did not corrode as you had expected, but made his necklaces illuminate the room in heron blue. It was so vibrant. The sailing boat had flourished and reached its final state, a 4-masted barque. He beholds the ship with so much awe that you forget the world. More cum dribbles from your core, the anchor chain widens. Never had his tattoo appeared this complete. The first carving attempt with the wand had been difficult enough. But this was your best work of sorcery as of yet — especially since it did not involve dead skin, a rotten branch, decaying bugs, another failed attempt to make the park a bit greener, with people there, and bad weather. This, truly, was something very new.

Jimin is zealous to drink what had not reached his chest. His puckered lips are not enough, it had to be his coiling tongue that you thought had been too exhausted. He laps it all up until the spark at his fingertips and feeling inside your womb recedes.

Something ruffles inside Jimin's hair. You have to look twice to believe what your eyes see sprouting forth between the black strands. Small blossoms of hydrangea. It's astounding how vital they look, just inches from your hands. They had appeared at random just to adorn him. He looks so cute. He looks so sexy. Just destroyed enough, but still in bloom. He deserves the reward you have in mind for surprising you like this alone. You bow down to whisper into Jimin's ears.

"You like a good hatefuck? Lesson from Chapter 34, you remember."

"Yes Mommy, yes!"

"Then stay still. Don't talk. I'll give you the advanced version."

You paint symbols in the air with two fingers. He's all giddy now. The upper tip of the wand stretches alive and turns to penetrate Jimin's urethra. The deep sting almost reaches the base causing Jimin's legs to twitch. The lower end of the wand decides to bulk out more, growing into an almost thorn-like appendix. Jimin's eyes blow wide open the second he feels where it heads.

"Mommy! My ass!"

"Don't. Talk. Or do I have to teach you?"

"Ngh—!"

"Spread your legs properly."

A whisper, a nod, his eyes turn bigger. His thighs part wider.

The wand cracks and pulsates when the thorn hooks inside Jimin's rectum. Knowing how hard as stone the Serpent would turn, you can only grin about how much Jimin would have to take with a literal clot in his ass. As if the carpet knew, it turns wobbly underneath your feet.

The wand thrusts into him through two holes at once. With less mercy that you had instructed the wand to use. But knowing its magic, it would adapt to the need of the one fucked by it. And going by Jimin's need, it seemed that a crushing speed was just perfect. But he cannot come. The grip of the wand is too tight. His ass gets stretched harder with each moment. He weeps.

_That's good._

More symbols. You keep thrusting it inside. What had plunged the room into chaos earlier now seemed to regather all force. Your hands feel different, too. There's foam at his mouth, poufy and dripping. Outside, the storm is ripping probably yet another flag from the theatre. You shiver, the rosary snaps. Pearls disperse all over the room. Jimin's eyes are empty of vivaciousness, he sees pure torture. At one point, he won't cry anymore. He's elsewhere. Pain is a just door to an abyss, past the threshold there is nothing.

"Can I go on, baby?"

He nods, distrait, but red in the cheeks. A bit of drool and foam splatters to his chest where the tattoo, to your astonishment, soaks it all up. He's begging for harder penetration, but you keep up the pace just as before until you see some pre-cum leak at the tip of his cock. Jimin remains absent-minded even when you retreat the wand. That he isn't unconscious has yet to be the first time you've experienced with a man. Hell, who has even made it to this point. If they had, you would possess a body count higher than any dark wizard's. But Jimin didn't tap out. He's a good, strong boy who can pass a test with flying colors.

Your lewd kitten.

  
The Queen Serpent, not self-cleaning as you wished it should be, ends up in the kitchen's little washing cauldron to soak for half an hour. It's where you collect your coat and a wet cloth, too. Jimin still pants and curls on the carpet, and you think an orgasm this ruined looks good on him. Like the hydrangea and his renewed tattoo. You lean down to wipe away the last traces of mud, and to kiss him quick. His lips are heavenly soft.

The bathtub can't be bothered with again. You know it'll get skittish and uncomfortable. Of course, it's not that it never wants to do its job, but water conducts your magic all too well.

Instead, you resort to a simple charm aimed at simply dissolving whatever covers your bodies into thin air. That's all you muster with the feeling of exhaustion from head to toe either way, but it works, the blood, cum, and mud is gone and not tomorrow's bad surprise in the mirror.

After retrieving the wand, you pick Jimin up to carry him to your bedroom. He is light, flowers falling from the crown of his head. The marks at his neck are nowhere near as grave as the book would mention, which made you wonder whether you did pull hard enough. Next time, you shrug. You can already tell what he is capable of.

The bedroom brightens with colors of safron and carmine as you enter. The withered metal interiors seem more worn and bent than usual today, and you figure it must be the Level 4 thunderstorm that made them so crooked. It is not sleek mahogany, it is not tender maple. Some of it is very antiquated oak from the Victorian age, one of the few materials that you found would be sturdy enough to last your presence. The central bed with its inbuilt lanterns, however, is purely brass, sighing when you put down Jimin who's mumbling his little thank yous and I love yous. The bed — you could have sworn the fairies had done something with it recently. But you are happy. Jimin is now in the place where you always wanted him to rest.

The roof of the theatre slowly calms with the silence outside. Finally, peace.

Albeit panting, the life returns to his vision. He looks around, half seated. Still the same place, he seems to realize, and falls back into the pillow. Jimin observes with curiosity how the scales on your body disappear one by one, and you lay down next to him naked. It's easier to keep him warm this way, you think, letting the lights go dim. You play with his hair and the flowers in it, sing of old charms from the witches' early days, and have him kiss your breasts.

The last bit of red in his eyes slowly fades. His heartbeat remains the same, too. It's miraculous. Each beat on time, each beat steady. Half nuzzled into the pillow with his breath at your neck, Jimin sleeps. Even if the light in the room slowly becomes softer, you see how the rough patch of potion burn on his arm slowly loses its severity to blend into the surrounding, tan complexion. It's not enough to pinch yourself once, or blink. It's gone in a matter of minutes. You touch the skin, there's nothing out of the ordinary anymore. The wounds that the porcelain had left after the voice's terrifying breakdown are gone, too.

Now it dawns on you. Jimin's natural skill is—

 


	4. Volume Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jimin receives presents for his birthday.

Now it dawns on you. Jimin’s natural skill is—

Healing.

No tattoo pain. No potion burn. No broken bones after his fall. No spots on the tissue when his nose started bleeding. All it took was just a bit of regeneration time so he could fix himself.

The book, too. It all makes sense now. The way he managed to complete all the exercises in it with so much ease, as a human practitioner on top of that. Only someone with a distinct talent would be able to use both heart and bio magic like that.

Jimin was born to be the only person capable of balancing your destructive powers. It was never a coincidence that he had been so reckless and unlucky with all sorts of accidents — he attracted pain because he could deal with it. He needed it. Otherwise, there would be nothing to heal, no reason to exist. His skill was trying to get your attention. What you obliterated he could build again and again, no matter how hurt he was. He was an expert on the body like you understood all things nature. It was a divine alignment almost, although you doubt that it was a deity inspiring such magic in Jimin. He had developed it himself.

It makes you fully understand why it all had been possible.

To pick up one-year-old Jimin.

Wrapped in a bundle from a November mountain pathway, far from the suburbs. It was back when you dared to venture outside the park to collect slate for potions, hoping you wouldn’t leave a trail of destruction. It happened, but the winter had already been tough on the land so nobody would notice. It was a rare occasion.

You found him in the snow, almost frozen to death, and promised he would never be cold again. Promised to clothe him well; you didn’t care how many sweaters he always needed. To be kind to him. Making sure he’s okay. The countryside temperatures had been so unrelenting at that time. Of course, he recovered. It was his talent, which you didn’t see. You thought it was a miracle. But the trauma stuck with him, nothing could ever be warm enough.

His parents never cared. Jimin — not a baby, but just another noxious bill and punching bag for them. It was easy to tell by the garment they stuffed him into. With a little sailing boat printed on it, but the color had looked so worn-out and shabby. Underneath, countless bruises.

You were surprised he would not wither under your presence as any person normally would. Jimin, at the tender age of just a dozen months, had already developed a magical ability that was needed for him to survive the torment of his parents whose final cruelty was to kill him, death by freezing. And that ability was to fix himself under any circumstance. You didn’t have milk for him, just potions that were said to enhance magical ability at that time. He would drink all of it with eager eyes. You thought much about returning him to his hometown if only you knew where it was. The crystal ball had been silent about the matter, nor did you think Taemin could help you with it. You often wondered whether his family or relatives would have been more nurturing had their financial situation been different. But if they had truly loved Jimin, there wouldn’t have been a bundle in the mountains. They were cowards who didn’t stand up for themselves to sustain him, even elsewhere at a place they could have easily brought him to. A baby hatch, relatives, anywhere.

Nobody had fought for him like you did. Against the Council’s moral concerns, against several Guilds of Wizards who insisted on the codex of ethics. So much vitriol. Each day, a new scathing letter materialized at the doorstep of the theatre. You understood that they would prefer the way of self-preservation after mortals had done their damage on the world of magic in the past. But Jimin was just barely one and a half years old, and still, almost a victim of heartless murder at the mountain. It took weeks until the bruises had disappeared. The majority of the letters you minced, especially those with toxic spells and curses attached to them.

Naturally, he would refer to you as his mom. He didn’t know otherwise. You thought of him as your apprentice the second he would get interested in the cauldron, but for Jimin, you weren’t just a supervisor like any other.

Anyone sorceress who would seriously practice witchcraft didn’t think of having kids. Too many wizards were pricks and endowed with Level 5 atrocities as their natural skill, and so were their sons. But it was Jimin, deeply human, who taught you to be like a mother. He wouldn’t give you much reason to keep one eye on him wherever he went, loving to preoccupy himself with teddy bears instead of military toys or the shooting gallery. Nevertheless, your sense of responsibility for him had awakened. The second you took the bundle home, the bond had been inofficially sealed because his natural skill was complementary to yours. It wouldn’t take long until you would tell him about magic courses because he had been so keen to know what you talked about with Taemin.

Taemin, ex-head of the Wizard Council, had lost two fingers after fending off a charm gone rogue, and would not be able to use his heart magic anymore. In fact, his natural skill — love magic — would start to cease completely. So he was able to come to the theatre to say hello, delivering things because nobody else could. He was still loyal to the codex no matter what, so you and Jimin would not face betrayal. But the most puzzling detail was Taemin being rendered immune to your magic during the accident.

Unlike the majority of wizards, he was forthcoming, coquettish and dapper, which you attributed to his former skill. Love magic was a rare skill for a wizard, and the reason why he had been elected head. He was dearly missed at the Council where things went unsurprisingly well when he was in charge. Even after the accident, not a minute had he carried himself less courteous. Everybody had talked about the ‘cursed’ amusement park back then, but was unable to go near it without getting cramps from the legs up. Your magic had always been this way, there was no mercy. Just ordeal. For the innocent and guilty alike, a sort of cruel justice that was unintended. Pain magic does not differentiate.

Taemin, seeing how you battled with it, would come to appease and distract the people to the best of his patience and abilities, and protected Jimin when he was around. What a relief that was, knowing that the letters would not stop coming in anytime soon. Taemin had promised to keep Jimin safe, always. There was no malice. You had even mistaken his coquettish character with flirtation when Jimin had grown up simply because you were jealous. The misunderstanding was only clear now. Jimin was the only person compatible with you, after all. And so were you, nobody else could balance his magic. It was true that a healing skill could hardly do much damage by itself, but the way Jimin wielded it was in urgent need of adequate guidance. Both lack of information and restraint had been his utmost foe, as was being the perfect target for murderous parents and wizards. The Ferris wheel incident was hardly an exception. Jimin’s magic needed protection from itself as much as yours needed soothing. It was a perfect equation, but you had falsely lost confidence in the bond from early on.

Stubborn in his dedication to you, Jimin wouldn’t think a minute about taking interest in someone else, yet all you worried about was the voice. It had been peaceful for many years, but anything could make it resurface. Originally, it had just been a whisper.

You had experimented with love magic to try and save Taemin’s ability after the accident, that had been the plan. But, if anything, love magic was the exact opposite of your own power. It had proven to be a very bad idea to use it yourself, especially as a practitioner reaching Level 6 or more — banned by the codex. But pain magic being your natural skill and obstinate to taming, there was no way of preventing the disaster or not breaking rules.

When pain encounters love, it turns into a scream set only to find and brutalize a cherished one. Nothing else could help you become intimate, given how each touch caused agony. That was how the ideal, the only person was born. Someone you longed to find.

You regret doubting Jimin could assume this role and handle it. Indeed, you were too daft to see how your best counterpart was right before you. The voice was there to help you realize that now.

It was one thing living together, but another to make romance work. Because you knew, with a pretty apprentice like that, with someone so close and meant for you, fucking would not be enough. Not for the time being, taking into account how magic would inevitably prolong Jimin’s life, too. At Level 4, which is what you believed to be his full capacity if he kept on learning as before, 80 years became 250 or more. You would have to bond with him again, officially. It was a fateful day. Without knowing, it had been the biggest decision of your life to turn around in the door frame when the piano had stopped playing. It was all taunting enough that you had turned your back on him just once.

Each beat on time, so steady. His heart brings you back. The window rattles open when you turn sideward to look outside. Good morning, cerulean skies. No trace of clouds or wind. The balance of magic had restored itself overnight. Only a light breeze carries a little green bag inside, landing at the edge of the bed. It’s linen, embellished with silver hearts. Taemin sent something with the help of the witch council’s air post office.

Framed with hydrangea, Jimin’s face rests at your bosom. You twirl some stray hairs from his forehead sidewards to see whether his eyes are closed. His lashes only flutter for a brief moment, but you know that he can hear you. Maybe he’s just waiting for you to say it.

“Happy birthday, baby.”

He nuzzles himself out of your décolleté.

“Mommy.”

“How’s my darling doing today, mh?”

“I’m happy.”

“Your ass survived?”

Jimin laughs.

“Can’t feel anything, um, unusual?” After a good rub with both hands, eventually, the opens his eyes. “I was dreaming all night. Something about the Ferris wheel.”

“Oh, pray tell!”

“We went together, all the way around. We could see the roller coaster in operation. And there were silhouettes inside the other cabins!”

“Someone in the park?”

“On the carousel, too. It was a nice dream. Everything was so warm.”

So warm.

“That reminds me of something. Just a second. Hey, Clumsy!”

Like a soldier, it appears at your side of the bed standing tall. Your broom. It’s glad to have a task as always, broom life is boring for most of the time. You point to the wardrobe in the left corner hoping it would remember. The broom hops back and forth as if it would think about something, then ransacks the shelves for a little while, going through all of your garments for Council meetings and special ceremonies, even a stack of dusty and crinkled witch hats. Hidden behind the bulk of it is a package, quite sizeable so the broom struggles to carry it.

“Oh come on, Clumsy,” you lift the box from its bristles. The broom huffs and returns to its former spot, a bit crooked now. Moody, too. It’ll tidy up the wardrobe later.

Jimin blinks twice before peeling away the white foil of the packaging only to reveal a black, solid garment. He turns it around several times with utter disbelief.

“That’s, that’s a coat!”

“An apprentice who’s always cold becomes a sorcerer who’s never cold. Council approved, tailor-made.”

“They tailored it?”

“I sent them one of your old winter jackets for reference and said to add a bit more room in the sleeve. The fabric is based on tiny heat wires, they get charmed and activated when wearing. Try it!”

“Really, can I?”

You unfold the collar to open the garment. Although the bedroom is considerably damp, Jimin shivers the second he gets the duvet out of his way. He’s beautiful naked, but even more so with the coat on, not shivering anymore. It clings to his waist and arms the way you had expected it.

“The only thing they couldn’t do was printing teddy bears on it. Sorry about that.”

“I feel like a teddy myself in this.”

“My, you are.”

A kiss on the forehead makes Jimin bat his lashes with a sheepish expression.

“Why such a shy look, baby?”

“Thank you, I mean. I never expected this. That’s the best present you could make.”

“Me neither,” you glance down his body, tightly hugged by the fabric. “I like it very much indeed, turned out well.”

Another kiss on his left cheek. He’s making big eyes, and you wonder if he did, in fact, turn into a real-life teddy.

You make sure that the coat closes properly everywhere. It’s a tad too long at his ankles, so you make a mental note of contacting the council for a shrinking potion to apply on the fabric. In the meantime, Jimin fumbles at his torso after moving his arms around for quite a bit.

“It feels different at the chest, Mommy,” he pouts.

“When I selected the fabric, it had to be one that was particularly suitable for, you know. Heart magic.”

“How exactly?”

“The material is compressed in that area  _and_  infused with a thin fiber from the Queen Serpent.”

“Wow!”

“It amplifies the magic and makes your healing skill calm down a bit. So be careful with any spell, this will alter and boost your ability.”

“This is genius!”

“It supports or channels any witches’ magic up to level 5. You don’t have to worry about thunderstorms anymore.”

“Can I still turn into a cat in this?”

“Very much so, it’ll be easier, actually. But the coat won’t transform with the spell like your normal clothing would.”

“It stays in that size, right?”

“You got it. If you turn into a cat, the coat is just left how it was. You’ve got fur already, it’ll be warm anyways.”

“I’ll be naked when I transform back!”

“Do I have a problem with that?”

Jimin mumbles. He looks up and down his sleeves.

“You like how I look?”

“Is that even a genuine question?”

“I was just wondering, I didn’t mean it that way.”

“I’ve slept with you just a few hours ago, you think I would not like your appearance?”

“You wouldn’t have done it with someone, I mean, unattractive?”

“Of course not.”

“You do enjoy how I—”

“Attractive is just that. It’s what it says. I’m attracted to you.”

“My body?”

“Look at you. It couldn’t be any more perfect. And in that coat!”

“Don’t be so cheesy, Mom. I’m not perfect.”

“Even if you weren’t, I wouldn’t care. Unless you reek like an ugly wizard who didn’t use a cleaning charm for five decades.”

“Please, no! Ew, anything but that,” Jimin buries his face in a pillow and pretends to faint.

“And. It’s Mistress, don’t forget.”

“Ah, I’m sorry,” he muffles into the pillow, then casts it away.

“We’ll have breakfast now, shall we.”

“Of course! Give me a second.”

Jimin, with one palm rested at his collarbone, snaps twice. Just like you have attached a cat transformation charm to how you flick your fingers, Jimin has come to use the same gesture for a growth spell.

The bed now sports a little white table. A croissant twirls out of the air, adding more and more layers of crisp until it lands while more bread rolls form above the bed. Grapes, a watermelon, kiwis, and apple slices are added as is orange juice in a swirly carafe. As a last feat, Jimin lets a pomegranate grow and crack in two pieces. Under your praises, they plop down into the embrace by your bare hands.

“You fucking sexpot, you.”

“It’s served,” he claps.

“Well done, just the apples need to be a bit riper.”

“I knew something was off!”

“Don’t worry. The grapes look like the ones in the book. Let’s try one.”

You finish eating with a little bit of red around your mouth. Jimin notices first because there are no mirrors in your bedroom.

“Pomegranate,” he chimes, and wipes it off with nonchalance.

“Loved it very much. Not bad for my twenty-something boy. Taemin says that aphrodisiac fruits are hard to create.”

“Just twenty, something is for next year. Does he?”

“Talk of the devil, there’s actually another present,” you point at the end of the bed. You’re surprised that Jimin gets a little confused, not having noticed the bag at all.

The linen peels to the side at one click of his tongue. That you came on it last night presumably altered its skill, but that — you won’t mention to Jimin just now.

Ribbed flasks and gemstones are revealed to sit inside the cloth, all carefully sorted. You already know that that is. As if Taemin could read your mind.

“For a bonding potion?”

“Taemin knows what gifted boys do when they turn 20. Make things official.”

“It, it really is! We’ll do this today! Can we do it together?”

“M-hm. Always eager.”

“Love magic is my favorite to use with potions.”

“There’s a reason why I’m unable to use it but you can.”

He rummages inside the bag. Quartz, topaz, and tourmaline wander through his fingers to test their shapes and sizes. Inside the flasks are squirming little ghosts that make the linen wobble back and forth a bit. Souls of long lost lovers, handpicked from the Witch Council’s basement. You’ll have to see which ones are compatible. Releasing them is not so easy, but they need to go inside the bonding potion.

“Do you know the right recipe yet?”

“Two matching ghosts, a broom’s crooked bristle, one gemstone of choice.”

“That’s very good Jiminie. I can’t really make it myself. We need to be sure you are able to do it safely.”

Jimin knows what happened last time you used love magic.

“Don’t worry too much. But you have to pick the ghosts when I free them!”

“Easy, easy. The stone comes first. We’ll do this later, okay.”

You prop up in the sheets to look for the silver scales. They’ve been throwing a tantrum since Taemin’s present came in. They don’t really like post magic ever since you got all that cursed mail, but what can you do. It’s all too reasonable. But once you place one on your arm, they all assemble to cover you. Clumsy also continues to be a little bad-tempered at the prospect of being plucked apart for an ingredient in the potion.

It is hard to wade through the debris in the living room. Jimin follows you into the kitchen with the bag, hair tied together at the base of his neck. The fairies compliment him for looking good with his renewed tattoo. The cauldron is prepared, but you urge Jimin to postpone preparing it. Instead, you give him a chance to test his ability first.

He agrees to use an air magic spell, assembling something right before your eyes. It’s an odd noise that is somehow familiar. After a few seconds, you understand what it is. The two crystal balls. Jimin has used Level two and a half magic to put them back together. The rest of the chaos slowly rises and sorts itself out mid-air while Jimin performs a sequence of charms.

The TV starts mumbling again when he is finished. It’s the second season of your favorite series, the episode where someone gets lost in a forest. Only the rosary remains scattered all over the theatre. The cellar, the seats, the wardrobes backstage. Who knows where else. Jimin’s necklaces are notorious for loving to get around. You know exactly why he enjoys to explore the park all day, too. It’s rubbing off.

After the very last cup and even the tea leaves have returned whole to their set places, you are content with the result and challenge him to do the same with the park, which he promises to do well. He heads out looking a bit stiff since wearing the coat is so unusual to him. But he says it’s warm.

You write some letters and pile them up for Taemin to fetch the next day. You heard that he’d attended a meeting with other witches, gifted humans, and wizards whose magic had been impacted through the loss of a limb. He might have been the only one whose skill had disappeared completely since using precisely those two fingers was crucial to cast a charm. None of the others would be as caught between chairs unless having sustained the same injury with the exact same natural skill. But after all, each of these people had suffered from the same feeling: being deprived of their life essence. You had hoped that he could restore his heart magic one day. Maybe it was finding people with the same fate that could lift him up. You promised to raise the concern at the next Council meeting.

Until then, you consult the high-density crystal ball about a matter more pressing than that. Taemin’s present has only showed you how much time flies and that there is need for another important decision. How far you really want to go with the potion today. Make it Level 2 and risk absolutely nothing or amp it up to Level 3 and have more on the line, but potentially a lot more reward. It’s not a question whether you are going to do it, but well, how.

The crystal only mirrors haze and hues that you can vaguely read. It’s not so common. Maybe, you think, the damage from yesterday has impacted its clarity, although you are sure Jimin managed to fix it completely. There is a violet flicker somewhere in the middle, accompanied by a bit of glint that resembles, oddly, tendrils. Of whatever plant, it is all so unclear. In between: Bursts of violet, you see letters float through the crystal, going nowhere which is precisely where they came from.

T H E

V O I C E

You try again, shaking the crystal ball hoping it would rearrange its formerly broken particles. Instead, more letters appear.

W I L L

Now, you attempt to use the crystal ball with lower density. But there, again, only a fog of letters appears out of nowhere. The first few chunks are hardly readable, if at all.

/ A / / S /

S O O N

It doesn’t make too much sense for now. All you asked was for how you were supposed to go about the recipe. Level 2, or Level 3. You sigh. Hints about the voice won’t help at all, especially imprecise and unfinished ones like these. The clue, ultimately, is already inside of you to find.

Quite literally, you discover — the Queen Serpent comments the taunting emptiness in the crystal ball quite blatantly. A bit of rattles, shaking. It’s all over your spine. A little hiss, even. It doesn’t take much to convince you, the wand rarely acts up and tries to communicate.

Level 3 it is.

Useless fucking crystal balls.

Jimin returns only half an hour later with a giant teddy bear squeezed under his left arm — dry, each seam where it is supposed to be. The arcade appeared to be the place where most the storm left the most traces, he says. He also mentions that he forgot the shooting gallery which you remember had been partially knocked over, but you dismiss it at one wave of your hand.

“Shooting bullshit is a twisted wizard’s business and something that belongs inside the Council’s basement.”

Jimin shrugs. The carousel is functional again, that’s all that matters to him.

To your amusement, he places the teddy bear not in his room, but in your bed where it remains tucked in between pillows. You already think of ways to repurpose the prop room knowing he won’t sleep inside of it for all too many nights. Maybe space for more books and a tea corner. Or a space for Clumsy to settle in.

You pick the quartz for Jimin to put inside the biggest cauldron when the sun has risen to its highest point. The bag unfurls on the kitchen counter to reveal its contents one by one for you to choose. There are five flasks in total, you count, and some yew tree branches that you did not notice before. The bundle is fickle, you wonder what else it is hiding. The flasks are a bit hard to line up straight because they still shake back and forth. Souls of broken lovers are restless beings, pure energy.

It takes ages to extract and bottle them once they have escaped their earthly shells. Whether it was ethical or not has remained an endless debate in the Council, but other than floating through corridors of human homes unhappy, or helping evil wizards commit crimes out of frustration, they would not have much positive use for human- and sorcerkind. Unless: they would be dissolved in love potions. Where they could unleash all of their pent-up pizzazz and find a soulmate, quite literally so, which was something that they never encountered during their lifetime and caused them to spook around in the first place, unsuccessfully so. The specimen that Taemin had retrieved for you were no exception. They are tiny, but eager.

So they end up vertical, stacked on the counter looking rather awkward, but finally a bit tamer. You had learned to trust Taemin’s intuition with all things love, but still hope that the ghosts are indeed compatible.

The first one appears to be a tad too rambunctious, flying around in circles and trying to tug at your coat, so he has to return to his bottle. Jimin recites from a recently released handbook on bonding potions.

“Reckless ghosts are not an ideal base for love potions. A union must be stable.”

The second one from a crystal vessel is just right. Very industrious, all over the recipes and written spells plastered everywhere around the kitchen. Jimin guides him into the cauldron without much hassle where it embraces the gemstone. He looks protective of it.

The third ghost knocks over a couple of mugs and breaks a mortar. Jimin has difficulty bottling her again but eventually manages.

Ghost number four is a surprise that leaves Jimin stupefied. She appears as the image of a wise crone, towers at the ceiling, then unhurriedly floats into the potion by herself to mingle with the other ingredients.

“Who, who was that?” Jimin blinks.

“I’m 880 years old, you think I get a ghost in its adolescence like you did?”

“Oh, right! They are representations of us!”

“That’s what the whole bonding potion abracadabra is all about. Realizing our best selves and just, well, going with it. It’s more of a symbolic thing that merges us. Enough to be happy and live a good life with everything we need.”

Jimin giggles into his sleeve.

“And our chance of a divorce is zero percent.”

“You got it.”

Eventually, Clumsy has to watch one of its bristles disappear in the wild mix. You promise to order new ones from the Council as soon as possible. In the meantime, Jimin stirs until everything turns into a dark purple liquid, infused with sprinkles that seem to emanate a winter evening’s starlight.

“Are you ready to go for it?”

You don’t have to ask your honesty policy about that. The answer is crystal clear. The only person who came from the November snow, it’s his presence that you desire. The tenderness. The softness of is hair when he tickles you with it, and how he makes charms. If not his everything because he doesn’t heal you by fixing flaws. He heals you by being yours. All yours forever.

You dip into the cauldron with your hands entwined. It tingles when you feel how Jimin soaks up part of your magic through the potion. The tattoo glows so much, it shines right through his coat. A sigh of relief follows. In return, it is his magic that pulsates at your wrist, and it’s quirky. Like the heat spell that he performed on the sofa yesterday, Jimin now lends you his sparks. No other person could ever make you feel this way. Your coat picks up on it as well by wiggling around your ankles. The amount of heart magic you were able to use has been spare enough. But he gives you something that would probably enable you to do ten bonding potions with him.

An exhausted little bird slips inside the kitchen, a bit lopsided with ruffled feathers, through the window when the potion starts to fade. It’s the first animal since decades that had shown up in your vicinity. Jimin has to look twice to realize what is going on, but once he does, immediately goes to pet it. When the bird leaves with orderly wings and healthier than ever, the cauldron is empty beside the bristle. You pick it up to test whether it is fully soaked, which it proves to be. With a bit of air magic and a heat charm, Jimin lights the bristle at its thicker end. The piece starts to glimmer while a scent of eucalyptus and sandalwood seeping through the room where it fans out even further.

“Inhale,” you swirl the scent in a circular motion. “Deep, it has to reach the bottom of your lungs.”

Jimin times himself to do it. He holds his breath for twice as long, then exhales at your word. He puffs out a little cloud of cyan, making Clumsy and the fairies go completely ballistic once again.

“What’s so funny?”

“They say it’s typical of you. The blue.”

“And what’s your color, Mom?”

“Let’s see.”

Jimin takes the bristle to draw a circle into the air.

You inhale counting to eight. To sixteen holding it in, the eucalyptus — so full and soothing. You exhale until only the remnants of sandalwood permeate your lungs. It takes longer to pass, but eventually, it does. Jimin blows out the glimmer, the scent turns ashy. All around you emerges a cloud of black particles, permeated with streaks of gold. Through the dark smoke, you see how radiant his smile is.

“Surprising? It’s the Queen Serpent’s colors.”

“Not at all.”

“We did it, Jimin.”

You hug, and it takes some time to fully grasp the thought. Jimin is now bonded to you not only as an apprentice, but a lover.

It feels good. How your magic permeates his every inch, it makes your wand rattle and meander all over again. Always good to know how she is doing. Jimin blinks when he hears it, too. You tickle him underneath his chin.

“We’ve used Level three with success. Only one step left.”

“I thought we’re finished?”

“Not quite. Taemin is always being a clever little Lucifer when he sends me stuff.”

“What did he do?”

“Pass me the linen bag for a sec.”

“I didn’t forget something, right?”

“No, I did! I was so busy with your coat that I forgot to order the second present.”

The linen wavers, and it’s a little rebellious, but you dare the search through the bag with narrowed eyes. There it is, then, the piece of yew tree wood that had surprised you so much when it had first appeared, seemingly at random.

Within your hands, it molds already. Jimin’s curious face attracts Clumsy who peeks over your shoulder mumbling and whirling around. But you keep on shaping the wood without a blink. As a result, there sprouts indeed what you suspected Taemin had in mind.

A sophisticated wand, both sleek and enticing. Neither heavy nor too light, easy to store because of its small size.

The Queen Serpent was never made to carry around as separate from its owner. This wand, however, truly is. A handy piece of simple beauty.

Jimin can’t believe his own eyes when you present the finished device to him.

“Are you serious? Did you just turn a simple piece of wood into a…!”

“No coat without a wand to tuck inside, darling.”

“W—wow.”

“Suits you very well, I think.”

“What’s its name?”

“I-Can’t-Help-You-Jack-Off.”

You dart him a pert little wink.

“Mom!” he scrambles at the lapel of his coat. “I said I won’t do it again.”

“You got defensive so fast.”

Jimin has to suppress his laughter when you poke his chest with the tip of the wand. The boat begins to gleam again.

“Oh, and I know.”

“The name?”

“Yes, baby. Just divined it.”

“Stop joking around!”

You hand him the wand to guide through the air himself. Jimin looks a bit overwhelmed when he handles it, but that quickly disappears. And really, as you had experienced it with the Queen Serpent, it molds to him. The wand, first sleek, is now plated with a mysterious alloy that seems to be an ornament or succulent he had recently studied inside the book for witch history. At closer inspection, it is some kind of ivy with little blossoms and buds behind or between leaves. Symbolic of growth and nature’s gift, an enduring plant that could survive the winter. The crystal ball predicted it just this very morning.

“This is the North Star. Do you know what it’s for?”

“North Star. Ancient navigation, I guess.”

“Indeed. Now look.” You tuck Jimin closer by his collar. Again, you notice that he doesn’t look like he experiences any pain at all even if both of your hands are touching him. It’s still something to get used to.

“You are the sailor. You’ve been endowed with a boat to travel by me. Which is what?”

“How I channel heart magic. The tattoo.”

“But what I didn’t give you is the guidance and the way. That you have to find out yourself.”

“That’s what the wand is for?”

“Wands are not just there to make a charm way easier. They add meaning and purpose to life.”

“You’re way too cheesy again!”

“Should I say 'They are dick substitutes that fit into a sorcerer’s ass to make him cry and submit!’ instead?”

“M—maybe, oh well!”

The fairies, clapping and prancing, stick out their tongues at Jimin who seems to blush more than ever, knowing what they had seen. You regain his attention by seizing him even closer.

“But about the meaning, it’s true. Listen, don’t underestimate it. There has to be a way to make use of one’s natural skill in life. Something that you are very fortunate with.”

“Fair enough.”

“My skill is not very useful to do good except eliminating malignant forces. But… I’m not so different from such a force myself since I can only use destructive tools. You, on the other hand—”

“That’s why it’s called gifted, right?”

“Yes. Indeed so.”

Jimin stores away the wand inside the gown.

“I’ll be very careful with this.”

“No doubt, Jiminie.”

“And I don’t think you’re so useless at all. You can stop lying to yourself.”

“Oh well.”

“You’ve put quite a lot of stupid wizards in their place. I’m just there to stitch things up when you’re done. That’s all it is.”

“Come to think of it. But I’d rather have some tea to celebrate your birthday. No stupid wizards around as far as I can tell, or are there any contestants at the door?”

“Just checked. They capitulate without a fight.”

Jimin disappears in the kitchen grinning cheek to cheek. He still looks a bit funny in his coat. He’s never worn anything like it before. You already know that he’ll sport his sweater or jeans jacket underneath in a couple of days. Maybe it’s enough to make him sweat for once. At least when you’re not there. You’re quite confident he will sweat when you’re around.

Jimin creates the tea with a special brand of leaves today. They’re bright orange, square-shaped, making for quite an interesting cup each. Taemin’s bag, convenient as it was, had produced other miscellaneous ingredients for sorcery to pick from just in time. Among them a small ribbon to adorn broomsticks — Clumsy did enjoy that one — and a few cleansing wipes for crystal balls, plus said leaves on top which consisted mainly of bio magic fibre. By now, you are sure that Taemin ran into someone owning a magic shop at the meeting. The equipment was of sound quality so you planned on asking where exactly he had ordered it. Despite not being in the Wizard Council anymore, Taemin surely got around and you were glad he had found an occupation.

You had prepared a third present for Jimin yourself which you thought was rather insignificant since he already knew a lot about the topic, but maybe it was good for a big laugh. The coat was supposed to be the main gift, but fabricated with the help of the Council staff.

“Something different I worked on by myself,” you sit down in the familiar chair with the usual chatter of the fairies surrounding you. They’ve been creating a bit of choreography and music, but after what seemed like a whole album, you shush them to talk with Jimin. 

“Might be of, say, interest. For my darling.”

The packaging is not overly intricate but multi-layered so you can see him struggle through all the paper. By the time he got to the last sheet of gift paper out of fifty or more, you’re both in tears. Jimin lifts the wrapping, sucks in air, all accompanied by the gasps of the fairies.

“Do it!”

“Ah— okay!”

“And?”

“ **Sexual Education For Young Wizards Volume 4**!”

Jimin, almost hitting his head at the fireplace, falls to the floor holding his sides. The book in his hands is only two fingers thick.

“There are no locks, baby I swear!” you snicker away with the teacup in your hand overflowing the more you do.

Clumsy in the corner is hopping and stomping around. Jimin can’t contain his cackling either.

“He knows he gets a new stick when you publish that, it’s big witch money!”

The broom hops around even more. It is only until you offer him a cup of tea, well, just to pretend that he would drink it, that everything calms down.

Jimin promises to practice diligently, and puts off opening it for 'later, Mom!’.

You’re still curious what he really thinks about the book series.

“I admit it’s quite a quirky read!” he says, regaining posture on the sofa again. “This one got difficult illustrations and exercises, too?”

“Hey, 'course it has!”

“That’s more wizards getting their ass kicked.”

“It’s for gifted humans, too, remember.”

“Gotta kick my own ass practicing it then.”

“Would love to see the result. I wrote new entries for  _The Advanced Sorcerer’s Bondage_  and extra instructions for tickling charm usage.”

“Tickling charm?”

Jimin flips the book open and browses through the table of contents where little hearts and sparks appear.

“So much about 'later, Mom’ huh!”

“This is interesting.”

His eyes are already fixated on a particular page. An illustration unfolds when he draws his wand, tapping the book.

“It’s a leg!”

“Pretty one, I thought of yours when I created it.”

“Gotta charm that one.”

“Just take care with your coat and wand. You know how it amplifies magic. But this might be ideal to try them out, a lot of magic in this is Level one and a half.”

“Gotta make it count, this is the first copy of the book!”

“The second.”

“Oh?”

“Taemin received the first one to review. Can’t talk about wizards as a witch without getting it right first. I know all the books and movies in the Council library but the body’s missing, you know. Wizard anatomy isn’t so tricky, but still.”

“What did he say?”

“Fabulous job, hearts and all? I was surprised, some illustrations are not as extensive and colorful as they could be. He can’t practice it anymore, but I think he tried more than once. Chapter eight seemed to be something he thought would have been good to know when he was younger. I agree it’s important to keep in mind. You might want to start there, too. You know my books, they are not chronological or something. The first chapters are a warm-up for the newbies as well, not you. Eight is good to try.”

Jimin tries not to beam when you say it. ‘Not you.’

He taps the illustration again, shrinking the leg into its former two-dimensional state. The way he moves the wand is still a bit shaky, but he’s getting the hang of it. After a second of orientation, he goes back to the table of contents where more tiny hearts bounce off the paper.

“Wow, so cute,” he murmurs to himself, one finger on the page to find Chapter eight. You try to offer him cookies from the living room table while he reads, but Jimin is far too engrossed.

Eventually, he stands up and paces the room, almost bumping into Clumsy who furiously defies but is left standing there in awkwardness because Jimin moves on, all the more absent-minded. You refill your teacup and watch him mumble, practicing some wand movements.

“Hm, does kick ass.”

He stands on one leg and repeats the entire process. Then follows more wand coordination: circles, stabs, zig-zags, and symbols.

“It might be Level one but that doesn’t mean it takes you a second figure it out.”

“You’re a huge tease today, what is this!”

“Complain more and I have my way with you, kitty. I could use the last Chapter with ease.”

When he passes by your chair, you nudge him by the hip. He jumps away almost instantly.

“No, no! I’ll be alright! Not the last Chapter please.”

“Last time I’ve heard a wizard use the final page in Volume 3, he got chronic blue balls and loved it.”

“Wha—”

“Kidding. Permanent erectile dysfunction.”

“Mom! What on earth are you up to! That’s way too many dick jokes!”

"Feeling good today.”

“But what is the key to Chapter eight? This is more complicated than all exercises in Volume 3 combined.”

You stand up, teacup floating along as you get to Jimin’s spot on the carpet.

“There’s a reason why I brought this all up. How did you solve the last Chapter in Volume 3? You did it all by yourself.”

“That… wasn’t all too easy, yeah. To be honest, I don’t remember much of it either. Just that it was, uh. Intense.”

“Come on, you didn’t forget how it went.”

“Well. That Chapter was French Kissing, so, I don’t know how to explain.”

“Do you recall  _why_  it is the last Chapter?”

“Witches have very,” he gulps. “Sensitive lips. If you know how to kiss one, you are sure to please her the best before anything else. The challenge is that her natural skill will always influence the way of kissing. If a wizard can’t adapt to it, the union is bound to fail. It’s his task to become receptive to it, whatever it may be. If it works, the union lasts.”

“You’ve learned it word by word, that’s very good. And what type of charm is used for that?”

“That’s advanced heart magic used with a grid.”

“Can you show me? Illustrations are one thing. Real witches another. And grids are quite something.”

“They are!”

“We’ve used the bonding potion so it’s possible that we perform the ritual.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Then let’s practice the last Chapter first. About time we do.”

 

Jimin gathers himself, feet slightly apart to align with the shoulders, the North Star held almost horizontal.

“Can you…?”

“Easy, easy. I come closer when you’re sure to have your charms together.”

“Okay.”

Uttering a series of formulas, little dots intertwine to form a web of red characters within the room. Jimin’s nose starts bleeding again, but he just sniffs and moves on. The web expands. He keeps adding characters to create a grid past any walls, spanning across half the theatre. You nod, at the edge of your seat already.

“Looks good!”

The air is thick with a buzz, but he remains concentrated. You can see how the blood from his nose stops running after some time. Once the web is finished, you decide to step into it with your own wand drawn. More charms follow to sustain the construction. You poke at a few characters here and there to correct their position, and they are pliant to the touch of the Queen Serpent. After everything is in order, you close the distance up until a dozen inches. Being face-to-face, Jimin’s breath sounds quite heavy. You’re ready to go.

 


	5. The Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You reveal the origin of the voice.

His necklaces jingle as they always do, but the flowers in Jimin's hair close into tight buds. You already get why. He needs his magic elsewhere right now, so it's hard to sustain them.

"Always breathe through the nose," you pat his chest. "We have to be careful. Stick to what the book says."

Jimin's eyes are serene now. His voice is brittle.

"I— I do, Ma'am, I will!"

 

Your tongue finds pleasure tracing his mouth from the outside at first. Round and round. It's a carousel.

Taemin had recently pointed out how luscious Jimin's lips were to you, and now you understand why. He had tried to play cupid. You never saw through the hint. Taemin's intuitive grasp on the erotic, without a doubt, was still better than yours even if he had lost his love magic. You, however, and that was something even he would admit, were almost entirely savvy when it came to all things physical, simply by having a skill that could dissect and disintegrate all living matter.

Jimin, being no different, had learned his chapters well enough but still was not safe from your eye. Even now as the grid condenses, you can see his weak spots by the way he winces under every lick. How could you expect him to be so immune when kissing would bring out any witches' strongest asset.

He's delicious. It's the blood that ran down from his nose to spoil his lips. Nothing you want to linger with for too long, knowing yourself.

 

_At least they're lubricated._

 

The voice is back.

 

You're just smiling. At one poignant twirl of your wand, the lights in the room dim down. Because who French kisses with bright lights on? You part from him for just an inch.

"Braced yourself?"

"Yes."

"Remember to touch the chain I gave you when it's too much."

"Never forgetting that, Ma'am."

_Break him. Ever so slightly. And, maybe, wholly. You've waited for centuries._

"Then open," you point at his jaw. He separates his lips. "Wider than that, baby. Relax."

He tries. Only with the help of your wand does he let loose. You chew at his bottom lip to get another taste to keep yourself on a high. He really is sweet, completely dulcifying. He does manage to breathe through his nose, quite steadily so.

The way the grid vibrates lets you know that he is ready.

_He'll be your fucktoy forever._

"Mh—"

Jimin moans something.

But he can't speak anymore. Your tongue darts between his teeth, you sense it swell and roughen. His mouth bulges out, he chokes. Before he gets too weak in the knees, you grab him under his armpits to hold hoist up, seize him by the hair to pull his lips forward, back onto yours. In his eyes, a green flicker. He struggles. Frantically breathes, still through his nose. His jaw, still loose as you commanded. You can be glad that he healed the bleeding in absolute record time. Whether he still registers anything in his vision you cannot tell, but by the way that tears well at his lower lids you know. He's swallowed it. Whole. All the way down almost snapping his throat in half like the pomegranate. It's so big, so slow, and voluptuous.

_Bye, bye. Was a pleasure, dear._

It's tempting to stay like this for a bit longer. But you can't help wanting to know how it went, plus your tongue goes back to normal anyways. Popping off leaves a layer of thick gel at his bottom lip, and you're satisfied with the result, the feeling on your own lips. Jimin doesn't dare to breathe through his mouth for a solid minute. Even though you still hold him, his ribcage has come to a rest. His belly seems a bit bloated, but starts to shrink ever so slightly when you tap it with your wand.

 

"W—Wow," he coughs. "Was that, what that really what I think it was?"

"Yes, it was. Felt good kissing you," you stroke his hair back only to see the hydrangea blossom again. Ample and even more colorful. Everything back to normal. You both withdraw your wands, the grid ceases in a bedlam of characters and symbols all evaporating through the ceiling. "Notice how warm it is?" you brush some debris off your coat and wipe some gel from his chin. "That's for you."

"It's nice. I never thought the spell could have such a side effect."

"How's your stomach feeling?"

"I don't notice anything now, it just feels full that's all. But, when it happened. I've never had something hurt so much in my entire life."

"Liked it?"

"Loved."

"That's what the book meant by a lasting union."

You nuzzle his cheek.

"Thank you, mommy."

"We'll have the tickling charm for next time."

"Oh yes. That sounds like fun!"

"You know how to solve chapter eight now that we revised some things?"

"I think. I mean, that should be very easy by now. It's just a smaller grid spell for better stamina and self-control. I think I know why you said that Chapter eight is important to keep in mind."

"Mh, great."

"Especially because there's a voice whispering all these sexy things in my head all of a sudden."

"Oh, you're welcome, she does that all the time when things get heated. Knew she vibes well with you. I was surprised she decided to leave me in the first place."

You remember the message of the crystal ball now, and it does make sense. The fog was not so vague about things at all.

 

T H E

V O I C E

W I L L

V A N I S H

S O O N.

 

Everything it predicted, from Jimin's wand to how what was inside of you would find a way to make itself a new home, taking the voice with her. Jimin is excited.

"I have to tell Taemin, I can't believe it. I swallowed a snake."

 

 

 

The rest of Jimin's birthday party, both of you spend time talking, finally eating some cookies, cake, and getting things from his room into yours. Clumsy makes sense of your wardrobe as good as he can, and throws out some hats. They're only good for attracting attention; you don't have time nor the social environment for that, the door frames are pretty low in the theatre anyways.

Jimin does rummage for the sweater to put on underneath his coat even if the theatre has turned into a jungle after the ritual, at least temperature-wise. The humidity, too, has risen even if the weather outside appears to be relatively moderate. It's the reason why you preferred the scales. Albeit very dated, they could adapt. But Jimin wanted the sweater, knowing full well how complicated things would get in summer. He would skip training for today, at least.

After a bit of wand maintenance and more air magic from Jimin, the rooms feel halfway decent again. You check twice whether his nosebleed or the painful swallow have left any remnants or sore spots, but again, he surprises you —there's no more bloating either. In fact, Jimin struts through the rooms like he was just born again. He affirms that the voice has pretty much calmed down now that you're not being intimate, but thought it was rather entertaining.

You realize how much your Jimin is all grown up by now, and his healing skill has not worked any better.

You do teach him how to use bio magic for a tickling charm, but what started out as a bit of making out was quickly ruined by Clumsy bringing in the post being all serious because it's work-related.

Signed this very morning, it turns out to be a letter from the Vice Councillor witch and your secretary, both congratulating Jimin and asking you how you liked how they made the coat. They go on remarking that the radius of your magic appears to be vastly reduced for a mysterious reason, that the entire Council no longer suffers from a migraine epidemic, and ask whether things are really going alright.

You reply fast before bedtime and send Clumsy off with the letter detailing how you love how they crafted the coat, how your natural skill had finally found its counterpart, all while announcing that you and Jimin — freshly baked wizard, well almost — are bonded now and will attend the next Council meeting in person. No risks involved, self-evident, see you soon and take care of the basement as always, and keep Taemin from purchasing too many things at the magic shop.

You do make yourself a written reminder to thank him for the bundle. Unsurprisingly, he had saved the day in all his foresight and kindness. You are sure to know that Jimin was to give him the lengthiest, most dramatic account of the love potion ceremony and kiss ritual himself, so you leave that out.

Instead, you plan to grant him the more complex and high-Level drafts without illustrations from Sexual Education For Young Wizards Volume 4 to study, knowing he liked everything that did not make it to the book just for reading's sake. It reminded you of how compelling and inherent one's natural skill was, even when the sorcerer or sorceress was not able to exercise it anymore. Taemin would always stay interested in all things love, and would likely bless your porch with many a bag because he always shared his talent. You couldn't help but feeling immense jealousy.

 

Lying in bed naked again with Jimin, teddy bear squeezed in between, you would bring it up asking for his take on how you could share your skill with others. He took it with a smile the way you expected it.

"Aside from bossing around rogue wizards and whacking them with your broom?" was the eyebrow-wiggling answer that made Clumsy puff itself up and romp about trying to get attention for its past achievements.

"Ah, Jimin. Don't bring that up, it happened a long time ago. A lot of wizards nowadays grow up like you, and they're born with very beneficial talents."

"Well. Because they read your sex books!"

The fairies start to chuckle in the distance, a lively discussion begins. You send Clumsy out of the bedroom to close the door behind him with the task of finding some pearls from the rosary all around the theatre. That'll keep him preoccupied while the door — keeps fairy talk fairy talk and Jimin talk, well, just Jimin talk.

"Well, some are still a bit lazy," you shrug, picking up the teddy to smooch Jimin. "You aren't."

"Everything for you."

Jimin kisses the teddy back and acts like it is talking with your voice.

"Hey, baby apprentice! Shall we give it a go?" — "Yes mommy, yes!" he answers the teddy in his own tone.

You snort, then stuff the teddy back into the corner where Jimin first deposited him.

"You kid can't help it!"

"Well, this is what happened. Ask the fairies, they're still trying to eavesdrop anyways."

"It's free entertainment, they watch enough same old TV shows all day. I just don't want to hear them giggle too much when I pass you another snake."

"One's enough, can't complain! Would get a little stuffy and cramped in there," he laughs. "But seriously, what does it do now?"

"Whisper, instruct. You know how it goes. It'll stay in your stomach, acid is a good habitat."

"Ew... but woah! It does all these things!"

"Magical snakes are complicated. Do you want to know where this one came from?"

"An origin story!"

"Yes. It happened when Taemin and I were still co-Heads of both Councils. Ages, ages ago. We were quite busy with the basement all the time to organize everything. He was present in the facility itself, I was documenting and thinking it through from afar and making the decisions when something new came in. Some things are simply more dangerous and need specific handling. We couldn't involve too many other people, though. Dark Magic is not for the faint of heart and Level one practitioners. The basement is full of hazards."

"Oh, I see, so..."

"Yeah, that's where it happened."

"Who caused that?"

"A wizard whose natural skill was lust magic made the mistake of collecting special herbs in a river. The snake who came his way by chance was affected so badly, he brought it to us for safe storage hoping we would find an antidote for it one day."

"Now that was sensible."

"The entire Witch council was in turmoil for days after. His visit had really messed things up. Lust is powerful. So you can imagine how much of a peril the snake was, too. Taemin was entrusted with it because well, he knew how to deal with all things erotic already. Lust magic was similar to his. I gave him the instructions to put it in a potion and put a sealing charm on it, but the snake just deflected it and tried to escape because it was so hurt and confused. Taemin lost his two most important fingers trying to retrieve it."

"Oh no! Did he catch it, after all?"

"The snake believed that I was the source for its pain and came to the park. I understand why it thought I was the one that affected it. It's pain magic, after all. Snakes are sensitive to it. The way it got into my stomach I'll be better off leaving out."

"But, but the voice!"

"Was the Lust speaking. The snake was changed forever after meeting the wizard. It just kept screeching whenever I got even vaguely turned on. It was bizarre."

"It doesn't really do that when it talks to me."

"Because your natural skill is healing. It's not the ideal counterpart for lust, but a hurt snake it can deal with. Especially an animal that's been impacted by my own magic for years. You are one of the best possible hosts for her. Lust can turn beneficial when coupled with the right person. Just like pain matches healing. This is the balance of this magical universe. Healing is universally beneficial, so it works well mending other, more dangerous types of magic."

"So that's what you meant by, 'it vibes well' with me?"

"Yes."

"It was quite a double whammy for you."

"Lust and pain. Well, kind of. But you took it well."

"Cause you're the best in the world, mommy."

"I can only shoo away evil wizards with a broom, that's all I'm good for."

"Good enough for me. And you gave me free dirty talk in my head!"

"Free dirty talk! What does the snake say, then?"

"Oh, it thinks it'd be fun If I please and soothe you."

"Just how I thought."

"What?"

"Lust turns beneficial when mixed with the right sorcery."

"I see, how? That seems so complicated."

"Healing and lust. It just works. Not bad a combination."

"That sounds good."

"I feel like we can give it a try. Too tired for _The Advanced Sorcerer's Bondage_ , though."

"Hey," Jimin shakes his head. "That's why I said soothing."

"Ah, you're just too good at this."

"Was raised this way. Give yourself that credit."

"I'm not Clumsy trying to boost my broomstick ego with the whacking story! I was just pissed at these wizards but he came up with it. All against the codex! But what can I do when a whole Guild of Wizards files a complaint or sends me cursed letters."

"Mom, that's okay. We said we won't bring it up, the wizards are already in prison. It's more illegal to curse the head of the Council than a broom getting angry. It's not time for whacking stories now. It's time to make you feel good."

"No whacking stories, then."

"Nope. No whacking. What do you fancy?"

"Volume 3, Chapter 21 is what I had in mind."

"I do remember. That's a nice charm."

"You can use the North Star for it."

"No need, Mistress. The tattoo is enough to help my hands."

"Then, ah. This sounds funny. The second illustration from that page, please. I'm ordering at a restaurant."

"Nothing wrong with it, you get as many courses as you like."

"Big dessert with cream, that's important, Jiminie."

"Huge dessert it is."

Coy, Jimin reaches for his neck to fiddle with the necklaces. You’ve stopped counting. They really grew into quite a collection with the years. He picks out a particularly coarse one, a string you made for him in his early days as an apprentice. It’s rugged, but not falling apart because a spell, forgotten, maybe never used again, holds everything together. 

Your secretary had retrieved the yellow crystals attached to the string from a laboratory in the Witch Council and sent them over — now, they dangle just below Jimin’s left collarbone, soft-edged, glowing like a flower bed of daffodils. 

The reason you had given the adornment to him back then was not just an aesthetic one. The crystals were acutely susceptible to temperature charms. 

Now that the ritual had caused a surge in heat magic all around the living room, the crystals were charged. Jimin, touching them one by one, would pick up the warmth with his fingers and sigh. It was relief that you saw gleaming in his eyes.

"Can you turn a bit?" he points to your back. You lie down on your stomach, pulling the duvet aside to have access. His hands move up and down, unwinding, retracing the arch of your back.

Everything feels warm.

It is his element, and you know why. Healing often required higher temperature to dissolve tensions. The cold was for inflammations, but the heat, too, was versatile to use for a cure.

"You know," he continues, "your skill is there to give me a reason to exist. Have you ever thought about that?"

"I was unaware of it for long."

"Just because it's Dark Magic, it doesn't mean it has no right to do its thing. I mean it's there, you were born with it. It has to have a legitimate reason to be here."

"I just hurt others. You can barely call this a talent."

"Can't complain, work for me! I'll never get bored."

Jimin makes sure to switch his focus of attention to your arms.

"Are you happy like that? Just — mending things and people."

"Our bonding potion made stuff a lot better already. It's not about me just fixing everything either."

"I know that there is more to it. It concerns me every time that we're isolated with this."

"We attend the council for the first time, that's something. We have to do it together so I can support your magic. But it doesn't bother me."

"I'll consult the crystal ball about how far the bonding potion enables either of us to go by themselves. This isn't freedom for you and I."

"Sometimes, books or crystal balls don't have an answer. There's not much written about it."

"That's true."

"Don't worry too much, mom. Everything happened the way it should. I feel that the bonding potion helps to balance our magic at most distances. And I inherited your snake, if things get dull you know."

"That I am sure won't happen."

"And, see it like that. Only pain makes others appreciate soundness. It goes both ways."

"Never thought about this."

"It's my job. And I think that people will come back to the park soon, too."

 

Whatever he does with his hands, it's working. It does make you feel better with the added benefit of having a clear mind for the first time since the snake left. His technique seems familiar to you, though. You send Jimin a questioning glance.

"Well, you said I should use it daily," he shrugs.

"Good memory. How'd you invent that?"

"It's just heat... arousal. Goes together, pretty much always. If you work with anatomy and not against it, magic has good results."

"Then show me. Just be careful with your wand. You know how it can amplify things."

"I know, I'll just use my coat."

Jimin's hands both gather at your abdomen. A white sphere emerges, covering about half your lower body.

"Mom!"

The sphere starts expanding. The lanterns of the bed are only a flicker now. The more the globe starts growing, the darker it gets.

Jimin messes with his coat. He taps his wand against the chest part, frantically trying to activate the tattoo. But it doesn't start glowing.

"Help me, I can't control it! Help!"

"Jimin, sweetheart."

"What!"

"You're just holding your wand the wrong way around."

**Author's Note:**

> I've written a significant part of the story already, this is a lil' teaser for all of you #BossWitches and everyone who's been keeping up with my fics. A million thanks, I cherish you.
> 
> My tumblr: submissive-bangtan.


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